


Being for the Benefit of Mr Gold

by mathildia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Ass to Mouth, Blackmail, Bondage, Boot Worship, Breathplay, Butt Plugs, Canon Disabled Character, Captain Swan BroTP, Clothing Porn, Collars, Corporal Punishment, Domestic Violence, Edging, Frottage, Golden shower, Handcuffs, Hooked Queen, Intercrural Sex, Knifeplay, Lions, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape Fantasy, Reluctant Submission, Rimming, Sex Work, Sexual Coercion, Skull Fucking, Snowballing, Soup, Spanking, Violence, Whipping, an elephant called Ben, background Snowing, background swan queen, captain swan queen, gagging, golden hook, honourifics, male vanity, probably anachronistic, race bent snow white, really long sex scenes, slightly scatological comeplay (sorry), speech control, the heaviest handcuffs in the world, uncontrollable drooling, very slight background red beauty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3284540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victorian Circus AU. Killian Jones is a lion tamer. Mr Gold is The Ring Master. </p><p>The sadomasochistic filth epic that is about to become your dirty little secret.</p><p>**COMPLETE**</p><p>
  <i>Gold took one more step, closing the last breath of space between them. Killian’s cock was leaking with want now. A wet stain blooming across the tight fabric that covered his crotch. As Gold moved closer, he pushed the whip slowly all the way through Killian’s legs, until his hand was resting on Killian’s aching erection. Killian had to bite his tongue not to jerk against the touch. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, Jones.” Gold hissed, pressing his face even closer. “You are going to get on your knees in front of me. And you are going to apologise for your wanton behaviour. You are going to thank me for controlling you. And then you are going to kiss my boot in gratitude.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Killian spluttered. “You’re crazy. I am never going to-“ Gold raised his free hand and pressed his fingers to Killian’s mouth. Killian shuddered and stopped talking, his lips shaking against Gold’s cool, dry fingers as if his protests were still hanging there.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been told by a few readers that this story still works if you have never seen Once Upon a Time. So if that's who you are and you are considering reading it (because of the tags, I expect, that seems to be how this piece rolls), it is apparently fine. 
> 
> Enjoy! Let me know how it went.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“The thing is, darling,” he said, stretching his eyes like he was telling her the most delicious secret in the world, “the trick of it is, I’m always scared the lion will eat me.” He flashed his eyebrows at her. “But I like being scared.”_

“Just the one bag, is it, sir?” said the boy with the buggy.

“That’s right, darling.” 

“Very good, sir.” The boy hopped down and heaved Killian’s leather case into the back. He looked awkward. Possibly because men did not call other men ‘darling’ in the bucolic paradise Killian had found himself in. This was, he thought, as he looked up and down the deserted road outside the station, most certainly not, the Menagerie on the Strand. 

And so, of course, Killian couldn’t resist laying it on a little thicker to the poor little country ingenue. “Take care with that case, love. All my clothes are made for me in Paris.” 

The boy swallowed.

It wasn’t even a lie, particularly. A lot of his embroidered breeches and sequinned waistcoats did come from Paris. The gold cloak was from America. His heeled leather knee boots were Italian. _Always_. Such things were important. It had been a wrench to send the bulk of his wardrobe ahead with his lions. 

Three days ago _Kenzo’s_ had sent an elephant to pull the lions’ cage out of London. 

_An elephant!_

The woman in charge of the beast was remarkably tiny, with short dark hair and dark skin. Her eyes were more heavily outlined in kohl than Killian’s own. Mary, she’d called herself, but she didn’t look like a Mary. She had told Killian that Ben - _that was the elephant_ \- Ben, could pull anything, so most of his things might as well travel by road along with the lions. He could meet them there. 

But she’d stretched her dark-rimmed eyes when he’d brought out five trunks, one of them just boots and another just jewellery and scarves. 

“Woulda brought another elephant, if I’d known I was moving Marie Antoinette’s reticule,” Mary said, as she huffed the weight of the jewellery trunk onto the cart. She had an accent like a dairy farmer.

“Never mind that. You got much experience with lions, love?”

Mary shrugged. “Got experience with a crocodile. There much difference?”

“No idea. I don’t deal with crocodiles. But my cats’ll get restless without me. Don’t overfeed them, though, it’ll make them worse.”

Mary nodded. “Is that what lost you the hand?” she said, glancing at Killian’s hook.

He shook his head. 

When Mary left, Killian watched her and her elephant lumber up past Trafalgar Square and into the distance along the Mall; people were leaning out of windows to watch them pass. And then he had three days grace before catching the train to join up with Kenzo’s. Three days in Mayfair and Soho turned out to be time enough for Killian to make sufficient money on his knees for first class rail travel - and a new leather coat with a collar so high there was a moment he wondered if even he was dashing enough to carry it off.

_Just a moment, mind_.

*

The buggy arrived at _Kenzo’s_ site at dusk, as all around the camp strings of coloured lights were twinkling on. The boy halted outside the gate and Killian jumped down, with intentional flamboyance, his new leather coat flapping around him. 

As the boy unloaded his case, he took a long look a the place. The caravans and the great big top in the middle, faint music from a piano somewhere in the distance and, over that, a drum beat. All set in the long grass, the distant hills, the stars coming out in the cornflower sky, the smoky scent of the air. For all this was the edge of nowhere; Killian’s new home was beautiful.

He followed the path through the jumble of caravans and side shows. The place was already heating up for the show. The adrenaline made his skin prickle. 

His cats purred like kittens to see him. He took a little time to calm them through the bars of the cage, before climbing up, over the top of it and dropping inside to greet them properly. It was noticeably darker already and the circus was building, louder music, more relentless drums. Killian was tired from the road. He dropped his coat, pulled off his loose shirt, rolled his neck and he let himself fall into the straw.

He was lying there, in just his tight breeches and boots, and with his limbs wrapped around Samson, _his big boy_ , when he saw two kids, a girl and a boy, watching him from outside the cage. They both had dirty, sticky faces, but they looked happy; excited to be at the circus.

When he caught the girl’s eye, she grinned and said cockily, “Ain’tcha scared that lion’ll eatcha, mister?”

Killian patted Samson gently, so he wouldn’t startle, then got to his feet and stepped careful over the straw. When he was close to the bars of the cage, he said, “Come here, darling, I want to tell you a secret.”

The little girl looked at her brother and grinned again, even more broadly, then came over to the cage. Killian could dropped his voice to a whisper. “The thing is, darling,” he said, stretching his eyes like he was telling her the most delicious secret in the world, “the trick of it is, I’m always scared the lion will eat me.” He flashed his eyebrows at her. “But I like being scared.”

*

Not much later, he was drifting off to sleep on Delilah’s warm fur, when he was roused by a voice calling through bars. “Mr Jones, Mr Jones, I’m so sorry, Mr Jones, but this is your ten minute call.”

He groaned, but managed to sit up, still soft and fuzzy. “My call? Darling, no. I’m not on tonight. I only arrived this afternoon.”

The woman outside the cage wore barely more than a slip and a corset. She looked very young. “I’m sorry, Mr Jones, but you are. They’ve been advertising you all week.” She smiled a thin, nervous smile. 

Killian took a long breath through his nose and considered. _Ten minutes?_ Ten minutes and he hadn’t warmed up. He hadn’t prepped. He hadn’t practiced with his cats for three days. But ten minutes was long enough to change his clothes and put his face on, and, really, what else mattered? 

He clambered to his feet. “In that case, sweetheart, I do hate to let my public down.” He winked at her. “Where’s my dressing room?”

“All the little tents along there.” The woman pointed to a line of red and white tents behind the big top. “Yours should be marked.”

“I see.” Killian darted towards the bars of the cage and jumped high enough to pull himself up and over them in one, almost graceful, move. He straddled the top of the cage and looked down at the woman. He could see his athleticism had made her mouth go dry and he flashed her the biggest grin he could. 

“Then tell them not to start without me.”

*

Killian found his dressing room stacked with all his crates of costumes and make up and jewellery. But the place itself was little more than a pocket of red fabric containing a gas lamp, a grimy dressing table, whose mirror was smeared and tarnished, and a long, low fainting couch with half the brocade hanging off it. Far shabbier than a performer of his reputation deserved. He would have to speak to someone.

Grumbling to himself, he changed out of his tight black trousers into the tight red ones with gold brocade up each side, found the matching waistcoat and a long gold pendant with a red stone. 

Once he was dressed in appropriate finery, he bent over the grimy dressing table to line his eyes. He wore kohl every day, but a lot of it had rubbed off, so he added more. And once his eyes were sharply dark again, he applied his make up for the stage. Gold powder under his eyes and some black glitter in his eyebrows. He blacked his scruff, put more glitter in his moustache and emphasised his high cheekbones with a further smattering of the gold powder. When he looked in the mirror at the result of all his primping and peacocking, he was hard in his tight red breeches. Even the leather brace that held his hook, looked suitably dashing. 

He smiled at his fuckable reflection and preened. 

He was as vane as a man could be, but his vanity was part of his success. He knew the thrill of his act rested on how much the audience enjoyed how he looked. How much they enjoyed seeing his bravery, gasped to see him risking his pretty neck, squirmed in their seats at the idea of seeing his body bitten or mauled or killed. How much they wanted him: he loved that. 

More than once he had jerked his dick while fantasising about teasing his audience too far. Displaying himself to them until, overcome with lust, they rushed the stage and took him by force. Held him down and took turns raping him, while he made futile attempts to struggle and begged them to please come on his face and in his hair, just not on his beautiful clothes.

He was so busy admiring himself and the delicious concoction he had created, it was few moments before he noticed the other reflection in his mirror. There was a small man, standing just inside the tent’s doorway; the velvet curtain slightly askew where he’d slipped through. He was staring at Killian too.

He was also in red. He wore a neat red frock coat with gold buttons, a black top hat and white riding breeches. He had high black boots like Killian’s own. But despite any similarities in costume, the man had a very different look. He was perfectly put together. Neat and pressed and sharp and clean. The way the man was staring made Killian feel sluttish and filthy; it made his breath catch in his throat. He swallowed and turned. “Can I help you?”

The man let his eyes slide deliberately down Killian’s body from his eyes to his groin and then back again. “Oh, very possibly, dearie.” As he stepped further into the room, Killian realised he was holding a whip. Not a piece of rope with a crack on one end and wooden handle on the other, like Killian used to control the lions, but a slender gold crop. Killian’s swallowed hard at the sight of it. It had been a while since he’d seen something like that in the hands of a man who was nowhere near a horse.

The man kept walking towards him. “Do you have a name?” Killian said, forcing his voice to stay even.

“You will call me Mr Gold,” the man said. He reached Killian and backed him up against his dressing table, leaning in too, too close. 

Killian realised his mouth was open and shut it. “Mr Gold?” Killian swallowed hard. “After… After your whip?” 

“After what you will call me,” said Mr Gold. 

KIllian was shuddered. Mr Gold let his gaze slip to Killian’s mouth and for a second, Killian was certain he was going to kiss him. But he didn’t. He just pulled back and smiled slowly. “I look forward to seeing your talents in the ring, Jones. I sincerely hope you live up to your…,” Mr Gold raised the crop and touched the tip of it to Killian’s cheek, “…promise.” 

And then, before Killian could say anything in response, he had turned around and - almost skipping out of the dressing room - he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“The Ring Master sometimes gets to thinking that he owns certain people in this circus. That they belong to him. You’re, uh, you’re one of them, bud. I’ve heard the way he talks about you, seen the way he looks at you, even. That’s how it is with him. As far as he's concerned, you’re his property.”_

“I’ve had nothing but good reports,” said Madame Mills, settling into an upright chair opposite where Killian was sprawled across a day bed. Madame Mills’s tent ran to three rooms. This living room, and office and a bedroom. He could just see the bedroom through a gauzy curtain. There was a figure asleep in her bed. Killian had shifted position a few times trying to get a better view, but he still couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. 

“Mr Jones?” Madame Mills said sharply, and his attention was jolted back to her. 

“Sorry,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Sorry, milady.”

Madame Mills rolled her eyes. “What I was saying, Mr Jones, is that although I will let this slide because you are new, no matter how many good reports I get, if you come to my tent without a shirt on again, I will suspend you for the day and dock your wages accordingly.”

He grinned at her. He was wearing gold trousers today, tight as could be, his snakeskin boots and nothing on his upper body but a gold locket. “Is that so?” he said lazily. “I don’t think your punters would like that much, darling.” He knew he’d already made an impression. He’d heard them cheering for him, seen the front row of starry-eyed girls and gruff looking men.

“I’d refund every single person that complained if it wiped that smug smile off your face, Mr Jones. Believe me.” Her tone was sharp and dismissive. “Now, other than the fact you don’t seem able to draw a line between clothing and costume, you seem to be settling in rather well. Are your beasts happy?”

“They seem content.” Killian stretched out on the day bed, legs crossed in front of him, hands behind his head. If he just leant back far enough, perhaps he could see. The figure in the bed shifted. _Blonde hair_. 

“And you are also,” she cocked her head, “content?” Killian looked back at Madame Mills. She was astonishingly beautiful. It was a pity she had retired from performing, he would have loved to see her in something sparkly and barely there. Today she was immaculately turned out in high necked blouse and a skirt to her ankles. Not a scrap of skin outside her head and hands was visible. Her glossy hair was piled high, artfully shaped in a way that reminded Killian of a moorish temple.

He shrugged his bare shoulders. “There is one thing, how would I go about getting involved in the side action here?”

“Side action? I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I’ve seen the girls floating about in their underthings. I’ve seen the glances. I’ve seen the men slipping off up to the back field. I know what’s happening and there’s no way it’s happening behind your back. I want in.”

Madame Mills looked amused at this suggestion. “What are you offering exactly? The girls are well protected, I can assure you.”

Killian snorted a laugh at that. “Oh no, rather… Some men, darling, some men prefer something a little more…” he let his lips quirk a smile and then gave her a little shrug, unable to think of any way to end that sentence that she wouldn’t take umbrage at.

“Oh, that, dear.” Madame Mills twitched her mouth and it was impossible to tell if she found his suggestion distasteful or just irritating. “No. I think not. It’s too risky, that sort of thing. And hardly necessary. We supply girls only. This is a country place.”

*

As Killian slunk moodily back across the fields to his caravan, he checked the position of the sun. Nearly time to feed the cats. He was about to swing a left to their cage when a blonde woman came trotting up behind him, caught up and fell into step. “Hello, Mr Jones,” she said, a little out of breath. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

He stopped and turned to her. She was wearing a cap over her blonde hair, grey knickerbockers and a white vest. Nothing under it. Amazing tits. ”Can I help you there, love?” he said with his usual smile.

“I can help you, buddy. I’m Swan.” She offered a hand, which he shook. “I run Madame Mills’s operation in the back field. Now I think she’s wrong not to take you up on your offer. We get requests for trade all the time. And since you joined us, I’ve been asked about you specifically more than once. I reckon you'd make a nice profit for us both. What do you say?”

Killian smiled. “Well, love, I do hate to let my public down.”

She grinned like an urchin he’d just given shilling to. “And I’d hate to miss out on such an obvious source of profit. Then we have a deal? It’s a straight forward operation. I handle the all payments. No renegotiation. They push it, send them straight back to me. You get half. Right off the top.”

“Fine.” Killian nodded. He cared little for the specifics. He wanted the buzz of being desired, after that, he was happy to take whatever deal was on offer. 

“Back field, after the show, okay? Can you take three. I don’t normally line up more than three for any of the girls. We like to be out by midnight.”

Three seemed like the minimum number of eager dicks he would drag himself to the back field for, but he said, “Three is fine. Just hand or mouth, okay?”

Swan nodded. “Saving the rest for Mr Right, are ya?”

“Exactly, love.” 

Swan glanced behind her. “One thing though. Best not to mention this arrangement to The Ring Master, okay?”

Killian hadn’t spoken to Mr Gold anywhere but onstage since that first night in his dressing room. “The Ring Master? Why would he care if you sell my mouth? He doesn’t appear to be a man too troubled by a moral code.”

Swan laughed. “Oh, that he is not. But… The Ring Master sometimes gets to thinking that he owns certain people in this circus. That they belong to him. You’re, uh, you’re one of them, bud. I’ve heard the way he talks about you, seen the way he looks at you, even. That’s how it is with him. As far as he’s concerned, you’re his property.”

Killian snorted. “I promise you I am not.” 

Swan dropped his gaze for a second. She had sharp, bright green eyes. They came back to his with something dark in them. “I don’t think you get a choice about it,” she said. He noticed she’d slipped closer to him so she could lower her voice. This was something she wasn’t comfortable talking about out here. 

Swan, Killian was certain now, was the figure he had seen in Madame Mills’s bed. Why would she be scared of Mr Gold if she was Madame Mills’s lover? Didn’t he answer to her too? “I can promise you, darling, I’ve barely spoke to our dear Ring Master outside of the show.”

“Oh, it’s not about you speaking to him. It started long before you got here.” Behind her, Killian saw Madame Mills step out of her sumptuous tent and look around. Swan seemed to sense it. She took a step away from him and glanced over her shoulder. ”I have to go.” She was already turning away from him. 

Killian grabbed her upper arm with his hook. “Wait. What do you mean, it started long before I got here?”

“Hey.” Swan jerked her arm out of his grip with surprising strength. She paused for a moment, as if she was deciding what to tell him, then moved close again. “He asked her to buy you. He saw your picture on a handbill. That’s all I know about it.”

*

Killian tumbled through the door of his caravan and poured himself a glass of water from the covered jug on the table. He could understand why he felt so shaken up. He drank a large, long gulp.

“I agree with Madame Mills, dearie…” 

The unexpected voice behind him made him splutter some of the water down his chest. He turned. 

“…you need to put some fucking clothes on.”

Mr Gold was standing in the doorway of his caravan. He was holding the gold whip. The sight of it made Killian’s heart beat faster. He gripped he edge of the table. “What? What do you want, Mr Gold?”

“What do I want?” Gold appeared to give the question a moment’s thought. “I want to know,” he took a long step into the room. “How you propose to make it up to me?” He kicked the caravan door closed behind him and took another step closer.

“What? Make what up to you?” Killian was stammering, relieved to find his voice at all.

“You’ve offended me. Going around showing yourself off like this. To anyone.” Another step into the tiny caravan and Gold was close enough that he could raise the whip and draw the tip of it down Killian’s bare chest. “And wearing gold too. That’s my colour. You may not wear the colour gold without my permission.”

“What? What are you talking about? I don’t need your permission to… I don’t work for you. I-” But Killian’s mouth dried as Gold slid the tip of whip down over the waistband of the gold trousers and down to his groin. Killian’s dick was half-hard. There was no disguising it in what he was wearing. 

Gold stroked Killian with the whip, teasing until he was fighting to keep his breathing even. “I don’t think you care what I’m talking about,” Gold said, as lightly, as if he was discussing the weather. 

Killian was clinging to the table edge like a drowning man. He tried to ignore the way his cock was straining, fighting the urge to press into too-delicate the tease of the whip. “I want you to leave,” he said through his teeth.

“No you don’t. And, in any case, what you want is of no consequence here compared to what I want. And I want you to apologise.”

“Apologise? Apologise to you? For what?”

“For displeasing me.” Gold pushed the tip of the whip between Killian’s shaking legs and then began to draw it gently out. _In and out._ Killian couldn’t hold back a gasp.

“Why?” Killian’s voice cracked as the whip, still sawing slowly between his legs, slipped up a fraction higher. “Why would I do that? Why would I do what you say?” He couldn’t stop his voice sounding whiny.

Gold took one more step, closing the last breath of space between them. Killian’s cock was leaking with want now. A wet stain blooming across the tight fabric that covered his crotch. As Gold moved closer, he pushed the whip slowly all the way through Killian’s legs, until his hand was resting on Killian’s aching erection. Killian had to bite his tongue not to jerk against the touch. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, Jones.” Gold hissed, pressing his face even closer. “You are going to get on your knees in front of me. And you are going to apologise for your wanton behaviour. You are going to thank me for controlling you. And then you are going to kiss my boot in gratitude.”

Killian spluttered. “You’re crazy. I am never going to-“ Gold raised his free hand and pressed his fingers to Killian’s mouth. Killian shuddered and stopped talking, his lips shaking against Gold’s cool, dry fingers as if his protests were still hanging there. 

Gold’s voice was still soft, almost sweet. “Oh, you are going to do as I tell you, dearie. We both know you are. Then only question is when you will do it. But do it you will. We both know what you need. What you are, in fact, already begging me for with every part of you but this fucking mouth.” Gold pulled his fingers back and slapped them onto Killian’s lips. “You want my control. And the longer you wait to submit to it, the firmer that control will be. I am quite aware that the promise of a harsher punishment is the real reason for your reluctance to obey.” Gold slowly slid one finger into Killian’s mouth. Killian didn’t resist, didn’t know how to.

He closed his eyes. For a moment all he could hear was his own stuttering breath around Gold’s finger, as it ran over his tongue; all he could feel was that finger and the flat palm on his dick. Gold had him balanced on the edge now. He was sure, if Gold moved his hand, even a fraction, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from climaxing.

And then Gold laughed, a sound that shot up Killian’s spine, so bright and sudden it made him snap out of his mesmerised state. Gold pulled his finger from Killian’s mouth with a wet pop and whisked the whip from between his legs so fast he yelped. Then spun lightly away and crossed to the door. 

He looked back as he reached for the handle. “See you tonight, Jones.”

Killian was gripping the table’s edge so tightly all his knuckles were white.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Mr Gold, please, would you stop undressing me. You are not my master or anything else. This nonsense has gone quite far enough and- Oh-“ And Killian lost the ability to protest or do anything else, as one of Mr Gold’s hands, slipped into Killian’s red brocade breeches._

The post-show side action in the back field was easy enough. Swan booked Killian three hand jobs or suck jobs most nights. He loved everything about it. Nights in the back field were a beautiful bright, kaleidoscopic rush of colours and sounds and sex, with just the right amount of danger.

Danger, because this wasn’t permitted. This was illegal _and_ against Madame Mills’s explicit directive. He didn’t know which transgression was the biggest thrill, but he knew Swan felt it too. He saw a light in her eyes when he climbed over the stile, coat flapping around him in the dark. She might be a tom who dressed like a workman, but she didn’t look at any of the girls the way she looked at him. She met his eyes with a goofy, sunshine smile. Every time.

And the johns made his heart swoop with a kind of messy pride. The way they came up to him, the way they looked him up and down in the light from Swan’s oil lamp. The lust in their eyes. The fact they wanted him enough to pay for his touch. He was sure he got more pleasure from it than they did. 

He found himself always wearing a shirt in the daytime now. And he hadn’t worn those gold trousers since he’d stained them in is caravan. But these things, he told himself, were practical concerns; the expensive gold fabric was hard to get properly clean without visiting a specialist laundry, and the shirts were a deferment to Madame Mills, who had the authority to make requests of him. His change in behaviour, he was certain, had absolutely nothing to do with Gold’s demands.

What was harder to explain away, was the fact he couldn’t get on his knees in that dark field without thinking of Gold. Every time. Every dick that he wrapped his fingers around, every one that bumped bluntly against his lips, made him think of it. Of him. Specifically, of his dick and of what that might be like. What that might be like slamming heartlessly into him, while he sobbed and begged for more, screamed and whimpered to be shoved down more firmly and fucked harder.

He couldn’t understand why would he think of that so often. He didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t care for buggery, even, wasn’t even that kind of fruit. Except, when he thought of Gold’s hand on the back of his neck…

And in two whole weeks, Gold hadn’t even glanced at Killian, had barely met his eye, even in the ring. Killian wasn’t sure if being ignored by Gold, was better or worse than being tormented by him.

*

It was raining. Rain changed the mood of everything. Even Killian’s part of the show failed to ignite; his usual mixture of hip rolls and life-risking barely breaking through the sluggish, small crowd of punters, sitting steaming in wet clothes under hot lights.

After the lacklustre show, Killian was in a low mood. He slipped briefly into this caravan to drop off the book he’d been reading backstage, then sloped cautiously around the back, for the quickest and most discreet route up to the back field. 

It was very dark behind the caravan, it was still raining and the coloured lights barely reached this far. When Mr Gold stepped out of the shadows and blocked his way, Killian yelled out in shock, jumping back, almost lurching into the caravan behind him.

“I am sorry, dearie. Did I take you by surprise.” Gold reached out and put one, white gloved hand on Killian’s hip as if to steady him. Killian’s breath caught like the touch burned.

“What do you want, Mr Gold? What are you doing lurking behind my caravan?” Killian could step away, but he didn’t. And he just let the hand on his hip stay there.

“I have something I want to tell you.” Gold's hand moved a fraction, stroking him. Killian gulped.

“Make it quick then.” Killian’s voice was a deliberate snarl. “I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Really. How odd. At this time? On a filthy night like this?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“If you say so, dearie.” Gold put his other hand on Killian’s other hip and moved closer, pressing him harder into the caravan at his back. They were a little more sheltered from the rain like this, but the caravan was wet, cold through Killian’s leather coat. 

Gold gave a little hum as his hands slipped up from Killian’s hips. The two white gloves started to open the buttons of his embroidered waistcoat. Killian watched him, dry mouthed, and the waistcoat was already half unfastened by the time he said, “What do you think you’re doing?” Far too late for the protest to be convincing.

“I’m rewarding you for your obedience, Jones. I can be a generous master as well as a cruel one. Although…” a soft, nasty laugh, “don’t take that as a promise.” Killian’s waistcoat fell open, he was bare underneath it. Gold’s hands moved to the fastenings of his breeches.

Killian’s breath caught at this further invasion. “What are you talking about? Mr Gold, please, would you stop undressing me. You are not my master or anything else. This nonsense has gone quite far enough and- Oh-“ And Killian lost the ability to complain or do anything else, as one of Mr Gold’s hands, slipped into Killian’s red brocade breeches and drew out his erection.

The glove had been shed without him noticing. The hand around his cock was just a soft, loose tease, and, Killian, instantly helpless, moaned and bucked up for more. 

“No,” Gold’s other hand was back on his hipbone, pushing back firmly, restricting his movements. “Don’t move, dearie.”

“Stop telling me what to do.” Killian’s voice was cracking as the hand on his dick teased him, never quite giving him what he needed.

“Why?” Gold smiled. “Because you love it?” And he smacked Killian’s bare hip where his unfastened breeches had slipped down a little. “Now do as you are told and keep still.”

KIllian knew he should protest this - even though his whole body would contradict anything he said about not wanting Gold to give him orders - but he couldn’t. Gold’s hand on his dick was still too soft and still too loose, but it still seemed like the realest thing he’d ever felt. He bucked forward again, demanding more.

And the hand around his dick stilled. A lower snarl, “I told you to keep still.”

Killian’s clenched his jaw. “And I told you to stop telling me what to-” 

Before Killian had stuttered out his protest, Mr Gold let go of his hip and smacked him hard across the face. “When I told you to keep still, I was including that fucking mouth. Do you want me to go?”

Killian was reeling from the shock and sting of the slap. “Wh-what?”

“I said.” Gold’s hand never left Killian’s dick as he moved his face in close, “do you want me to go?”

“No.” He knows he said that too quickly, knows he shouldn’t have said it at all. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Then do as you are told.”

Gold tightened his grip on Killian’s leaking cock all the more and jerked. Killian wailed. A rough hand slammed over his mouth. “If you make one more fucking sound, Jones, one more, I will stop. And I will walk away. And I will never touch you again. Do you understand me?”

Killian nodded, biting his lip hard behind Gold’s dry palm.

Gold’s whole body was pressed hard against Killian’s now, trapping him against the back of the caravan. Gold was jerking Killian’s dick so hard and fast that even with his mouth covered, Killian had to fight to obey the instruction to be silent.

“So, Jones, I told you I had something to tell you.” Gold’s voice came drifting through the haze of sensation. “And I do, I know you’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do to you. I know you can barely think of anything else. And you want to know, don’t you, how it will be when you finally come to me and get on your knees and beg for my control. Which you will. Which we both know you will.”

Killian shuddered.

“What will happen?” said Gold, as if considering the question. “Will I tie you down? Will I hurt you? Will I fuck you and choke you and spit on your dick? Will I tease you until you scream for release? Will I smear my seed across your face and forbid you from wiping it away?” 

Killian’s muscles started to tense as Gold gripped him tighter, moved faster, and kept talking. “Will I show you to other people with your pretty face stained like that? Will I show every single person here that you are my fucking property? Will I make you wear a collar and treat you like my dog? Will I make you beg to be used and controlled?” 

Killian groaned again, half-words leaked into Gold’s hand covering his mouth, something like, “Please, please…” His hips were bucking now to meet every vicious, glorious touch; his eyes were squeezed tight shut. “

I know you’ve been thinking about that,” Gold hissed. “About nothing else. And I want you to know Jones. I will do every one of those things to you. And you will kiss my boot and thank me for all of them. It’s just a matter of time.”

Killian took a hard breath and rolled his head back. The pressure from Gold’s had was too perfect. The images in his head were making him burn. He was so close. _About to… About to…_

_…And Gold let go of Killian’s dick._

Killian’s hips slammed up into nothing, into the cold air and the rain. He yelled in real anguish at the sensation. His legs felt like they were liquifying under him; his belly was full of ice. He slammed his hips up again, moaning with horror. Still nothing. _Nothing._ His spine was crumbling. Every muscle was shaking. And the orgasm he was about to plunge into faded, and faded out of is reach. 

“What?” Killian said, weakly. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry dearie. You haven’t earned it yet.” Gold took a step away from him, leaving him slumped up against the caravan. Chest heaving, dick burning.

In the dark, in the rain, in the distant glitter of the coloured lights, Gold looked like a grinning demon. Killian had never heard of such a barbaric practise before. To take a man to his fucking edge and then just, just… “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He stammered, as he reached down and shoved his painful erection back into his breeches. “This can’t… This just can’t be…” he could barely choke out words. “…Just stay the fuck away from me.”

“I know you don’t mean that, dearie,” said Gold brightly, as he turned away and strolled casually off into the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Fuck off, mate.” Killian called to him, shrugging into his coat. “I’m done,”_
> 
> _The man stopped just outside the glimmer of the oil lamp. “Your girl said you’d take another. She didn’t want to, but then I offered her double the price.”_

David had confused Killian, at first. He looked so incredibly dangerous, with his white vest, tattoo sleeves and massive physique; plus he was an escapologist which seemed to suggest some kind of deviance - his entire act was chains and rope and things that made Killian’s mouth dry a little - but the man himself, to speak to, was simply a big, dumb kitten. Killian had only really understood David when he realised he was his beloved cat Samson in human form. 

And while it was certainly true that Killian wouldn’t have rejected an advance from David, his main feeling about him was that a body like that was wasted on a man who wasn’t going to put it to any kind of decent use.

It was raining even harder today. The cats were miserable with it. Killian had at least found one way to put David’s body to use, helping him haul a huge and heavy oil cloth over the top of the cats’ cage to give them some shelter. After they’d heaved it over the top, they both worked to lash the cloth into place, David climbing up on an old soap crate and Killian clambering up the bars, using the grip of his red leather trouser and the thick heels of his high boots to help him monkey up outside of the cage. 

As Killian was tying off the last rope, he slipped - sudden and quick - his heel wasn’t locked around the cage bars the way he thought. And, as he fell, yelling and flailing, David shot around the cage, moving faster than Killian would have thought possible for such a lumbering man, and caught him in his arms like a maiden. Killian was quite overwhelmed by it. David’s white shirt was wet and stuck to is chest. His skin through it was warm. Killian felt safer, in David’s arms than he had in days. It was all he could do not to rest his head on that broad shoulder.

But David only held him a single second longer than he should, before setting him carefully on the ground with a brisk cough. “You alright, K?” he asked as Killian steadied himself. glancing down to check he hadn’t scuffed his trousers.

“Believe me,” said Killian, “I’ve suffered worse.”

“Actually," David said, as they both turned to walk towards the caravans, "I've been meaning to ask you something.”

“Aye. Ask me anything you like, darling.”

“I don’t suppose,” David said, “don’t suppose you’ve seen a pair of handcuffs anywhere?”

Killian swallowed. “ _Why_?” he started, then stopped horrified how high pitched his voice had come out, gulped again and said, more carefully, “Why are you asking me?”

David laughed a big, simple laugh. “Don’t worry, K, I don’t think you’re snide, or nothing. I’m asking everyone. I got these special cuffs from New York, right. Extra heavy weight. Biggest ones they make anywhere in the world. So good in the act ‘cause all you have to do is get a pretty girl out the audience and get her to hold them. An’ her face, when she feels the weight…” David shook his head like he was remembering a particularly pretty one stretching her eyes in shock. “Yeah, does the job.” David paused a few moments longer over the sweet memory, then he said. “Looks impressive, but the truth is they are no harder to open than any other pair. Really bleeding uncomfortable, mind you, but I only wear them for 40 seconds. At least that’s the plan, or the guillotine’ll cut my head off. Ha!” With that, he clapped Killian on the back, hard enough that he stumbled slightly. “Course, I don’t know the exact time, or I didn’t, but Mary timed it once. Worked it all out. She was worried about it. The bit where I could get my head cut off.” He laughed again. “Anyway, they’ve gone missing. And in this weather, the show needs all the thrills it can get.”

“Sorry, mate,” said Killian. “I’ve got not idea where they’ve gone.” 

But he did have one idea of where they might be - where he hoped they might be. He wondered how uncomfortable they really were.

*

After the show, that evening the rain was still drumming on the canvas roofs of the tents and the wooden roofs of the caravans, but Swan claimed it wasn’t wet enough for her to cancel her operation. She’d paired up all the girls, so one of each duo could take turns holding a large umbrella for the other and, when that was done, she turned to Killian. “You’re still on your own, buddy. But set up under the big oak tree at the back for shelter. It’s a bit further out than we normally go, so take the big lamp. Do you want an oil cloth for your knees?”

Killian rolled his shoulders and shook his head. “No, love. Tell the tricks it’s hand jobs only. I’m not getting on my knees in this mud.”

“Right you are,” Swan said, making a note on a clipboard. And Killian took the lamp and slouched off to the oak tree as directed. It was right at the far edge of the field, further out than he normally went. He was glad Swan had suggested the big lamp, but even with it, the dark pressed in all around him.

Three hand jobs to faceless men in the dark, under a dripping oak tree turned out to be a tiresome business. He didn’t even get the tiniest kick from it. Didn’t even get hard. He normally obliged when tricks wanted to kiss him, even enjoyed it if they used a bit of force and showed a bit of lust: a hand wound tight in his hair, a punishing grip on his upper arms, or a mouth that snarled into his, was usually quite welcome. But tonight when they moved in, he shook his head and closed his mouth, turned his face away.

He was ready for the evening to be over, adjusting the neat line of his white and silver waistcoat, when he noticed a fourth man approaching him across the field. “Fuck off, mate.” Killian called to him, shrugging into his coat. “I’m done,”

The man stopped just outside the glimmer of the oil lamp. “Your girl said you’d take another. She didn’t want to, but then I offered her double the price.”

Killian took a breath. “Oh fine. If you must. She tell you it’s manual only, tonight?” Killian knew he could do this in less than five minutes. Easier than arguing. “Come here and lean against the tree, love.”

The man took another step forward and, as Killian turned to slip off his coat again, kicked over the oil lamp. 

“Hey.” said Killian, his voice sounding echoey in the sudden blackness.

The man laughed. “Better in the dark, I think,” he said. “More intimate.”

“You could have just bloody said. No need to… Oh fine. Whatever you bloody want.“ he stopped and sighed. It wasn’t worth it. He was tired now and just wanted to get this done. In the dark, Killian could sense the man moving closer, felt him position himself against the tree trunk. 

As Killian stepped forward and reached for the man’s dick, the man swatted Killian away. “No more of this ‘manual only’ nonsense, I think,” he said, and as he spoke, he spidered his hand up Killian’s chest until it rested on his neck, making Killian’s breath quicken. The man gave a soft hum and then placed his other hand there too. Then the tiniest squeeze. Nothing more than the suggestion of a squeeze, really, but Killian’s heart raced. “I’ve paid double for you, whore. I think the least you can do is get on your knees.” And the hands slid onto Killian’s shoulders, pressing him downwards.

He’d recognised the voice - there wasn’t even an attempt to disguise - but he didn’t argue. He knew who this was and he didn’t care. His knees hit the ground, and wetness started to seep through to his skin. And just like that, for the first time that evening, Killian was hard. Not just hard, but already shaking with desire. The man’s dick butted against his lips. He opened obediently; took it with a moan. 

In response, the man moved his hands to the back of Killian’s skull, gripped tight, drew out and then slammed back in, hard. Deep. It was sudden and it was fast. It was rough. The man held Killian’s head firmly locked in place and fucked it as sloppily and mercilessly as if it was his own fist. Killian choked. His eyes prickled, and how he loved it.

Killian couldn’t control the pace or the depth of the man’s thrusts. He couldn’t control anything. Saliva was helplessly leaking down his chin, so hard and fast he could feel it dripping onto his bare chest where it was exposed in the deep V of his waistcoat. It made him shiver inside to be drooling like this, so totally degraded. The humiliation of it made him burn. Burn everywhere, but most of all between his legs.

And perhaps it was the rough treatment, or this man’s over whelming, brutal desire, but Killian’s cock got harder and harder as his face was viciously fucked. He was keening around the dick in his mouth in minutes and, as the man steadied the rhythm, Killian started to reach for the buttons of his own breeches. But he hadn’t even brushed them with his fingertips when the man reached down and lifted his hand away. He brought Killian’s hand up to his own slender hip and trapped it there, fingernails digging hard into the back of it. “None of that, whore. I didn’t pay to see that crap.”

Killian shuddered. There was something shameful about being so overcome by having a dick in rammed forcefully into his mouth that he’d tried to start jacking himself…, but that feeling, something about the shame, the way he’d been caught touching himself, the frustration of being denied his own hand, just made him harder. Just made what he desired twist around on itself again, and now he ached so much more than he had before he’d tried to touch himself. Killian couldn’t hold back the long frustrated wail that leaked around the dick in his mouth as he thrust his own hips into nothing. And, at that, above him, the man gave a low grunt of satisfaction. 

Killian felt like he was nothing - nothing but a receptacle for someone else’s pleasure. He had no air now and the struggle to even breathe, along with the friction from his breeches built and built. When the man jolted and came in his mouth, pulling back so that he shot all over Killian’s tongue and lips and the taste of it was everywhere, Killian came too. Like a sudden bright, white flash. Then the man sharply pulled his dick completely free from Killian’s mouth, and Killian lost his balance, falling back and away onto the wet ground, panting, his mouth and chin and face and everything drenched in come and drool, his body still spasming.

Before he had stopped shuddering, the man stepped forward and bent over him. The face was close enough now for him to see who it was. Although, of course, he had known who it was from the moment that boot had kicked the lamp over.

“Thanks for coming to see me at work, Mr Gold” Killian slurred. His jaw still ached too much for him to form words clearly.

Gold looked different. Even in the dark, Killian could sense him… _bristling_. His voice was a low growl. “You think this is funny, do you, Jones? Do you think I am _amused_ by this? Think you’ve been _clever_? How dare you.”

Killian all but rolled is eyes. His breeches were soaked and muddy from knee to ankle and the crotch was thick and sticky. His jaw hurt and he was sure his hand was bleeding. He shifted. “What? What’s your problem now? Don’t tell me I didn’t make that good for you. I know what I’m doing.”

“You do, don’t you?” Gold’s voice shook. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about this? That I’m not watching you? That you do anything, anything at all, without my knowledge?” Gold grabbed Killian’s hair again, wrenched him up. “You’ve been selling my property,” he spat.

“What? It’s none of your business what I do,” Killian said tightly, trying not to flinch against the burn in his scalp.

“That, Jones, is where you are very, very wrong. You-“ he twisted at Killian’s hair, making him hiss, “-belong to me. Your body belongs to me. Your mouth belongs to me. I didn’t believe, until I saw it for myself, that anyone could be so reckless with another person’s property. Look at you, look at how you’ve ruined yourself. Is this what you do? Up here? Night after night?”

Killian’s jaw was still aching so much it was hard to speak. “Not really. Most tricks aren’t so fucking lunatic as you.”

Gold reached out and grabbed Killian’s chin, tight. “That fucking mouth. I should wire it shut. Although you’d probably find a way to enjoy that, wouldn’t you, you disgusting reprobate?” Gold was panting with rage. “You will pay a serious price for this, Jones.”

“You are just…” Killian’s voice faded. Despite everything, he was getting hard again. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but here, on his knees, in the mud, with Gold’s hands wrenching at his hair and his jaw. With Gold’s come drying on his face. Being spoken to like he was filth. He twitched his hips. “What do you want, then?”

Gold’s face was hard and nasty. “Before this, I was willing to wait for you to admit your obvious desires to yourself and come to me, but this disgusting charade has changed everything. The rules of our game are different now, Jones and what I require from you is nothing less than your complete submission. You will admit that what you are and that I own you and you will obey me. Starting now. Kiss my boot.” Gold shoved Killian’s head towards the ground. He had one foot extended. 

Killian braced with his arms, so Gold couldn’t force him more than halfway down. _Was this real? Was this another game?_ He fought to steady his breathing and control himself. “That, Mr Gold,” he said, his head still held down, “is not going to happen. Why don’t you just leave me alone if I disquiet you so much. Just stay away from me.”

Gold pulled Killian back up by the hair. “Oh, you stupid boy. you have no idea what you’re… If you don’t make me happy-“ Gold’s snapping, snarling face moved even closer. “If you don’t give me what I want, Jones, I will take great delight in informing Madame Mills about your delinquency. I know for a fact she already finds your general lasciviousness disgusting. This will ensure that you are fired and your fucking lions are shot. If you enjoy turning tricks so much, perhaps you will enjoy doing it in back alleys for begged farthings.” He twisted Killian’s hair, pulled his head back and exposed the long, vulnerable line of his throat. His voice fell to a whisper. “I will ruin you unless you satisfy me, Jones. I will break you and I will fucking ruin you.” And Gold leaned in and licked one long line up Killian’s neck from collar bone to his ear, before shoving him away, hard. 

Killian went reeling backwards, half over on his side, and Gold grunted and stalked off into the dark.

As Killian lay on the ground. The rain got heavier, soaking him through.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Gold put a lot of work into getting you here. He wanted you so much, you know.” Swan whistled. “So, so much.”_
> 
> _Killian nodded. He knew where his talents truly lay. “Then we just need to make sure he doesn’t forget it.”_

By the time Killian had walked down to the stile, the field was empty. All the girls were gone. Only Swan was left. She was stacking oil cloths and lanterns and some mysterious crates onto a push cart. When she looked up and saw Killian, she whistled like a costermonger. “Sweet Jesus, look at you. Trick talked you into getting down in the mud, after all, did he? You haven’t even wiped your face off, you filthy fucking devil.” She turned away and lifted another stack of folded fabric. When she turned back he was closer and she took another look at the state he was in. “You okay, Killian? Trick do something you didn’t want?”

Killian nodded as he set the broken oil lamp down on her cart. “You could say that.” There was a flask of gin lying on the stack of crates. Killian picked it up. 

“Alright, let me find the Blacklist Book.” Swan didn’t seem overly concerned. When she found it, she flipped through quite a few pages of the ‘Blacklist Book’, until she reached an empty one. “Okay, first, second or third? Gotta say I’m surprised. They all looked kinda mild mannered. You never can tell though.”

“Gold,” said Killian, sinking down onto the stile. Every part of his body hurt. “Mr Gold. The Ringmaster.” He pressed the cold metal flask against his aching jaw. “And, you know, you know what he’s like.” 

Swan went very still. Her face was pale. It was even noticeable in the lamplight. “Gold was here? Gold knows? About you? What did he say?”

Killian smirked. “He wasn’t exactly happy about it.”

“Oh damnit, damnit. Did he say what he was going to do?”

“Oh, the usual. Tell Madame Mills. Ruin me, break me, never let me come, control me, make me his slave, treat me like a dog, make me beg, make me kiss his boots. You know.” Killian pulled the cork out of the gin flask with his mouth and drank a long pull, “He repeats himself, somewhat.” Killian splashed more of the gin in into his palm, by trapping the bottle in the crook of his left arm, and used it to rinse some of the dried semen and spit off his face. It stung like a bugger.

Swan’s paled face went even paler. “Do you…? You don’t think this is funny, do you? Don’t think he’s playing games? Killian, listen to me, Gold’s dangerous. Really dangerous. He wouldn’t think twice about getting you sacked, or me, if it furthered his ends. And Regina listens to him. They go way back and, oh god… She expressly forbid me to to this.” Swan’s voice dropped to a murmur like she was talking to herself. “ I didn’t think there was a chance she could find out... She wouldn’t dream of coming up here...” Walking over, Swan sank down next to Killian on the stile, took the gin bottle and drank a far longer pull that he had. 

Killian rolled his shoulders. They crunched. “What will Madame Mills do, if Gold tells her”

He felt Swan shrug. “Fire you.”

Killian took back the gin. “That’s not so bad. I could get another job. I’m good at what I do. I’m a huge draw." He brought the bottle to his lips and swished the gin around every part of his mouth. _Maybe just getting out of this place would be the best move. If Gold wanted to have him fired, why not let him?_

Swan sniffed dismissively. “Kenzo’s own your lions. Regina could make it really tough for you if she refused to sell them on. And if Gold really wants your hide, he could probably talk her into anything. He could have you arrested, if he’s feeling really vicious.”

“Can you put in a word for me then? With Madame Mills? Smooth it over.”

“Me? I’ll be lucky if I don’t get fired and jailed for this too.”

“You? But aren’t you Madame Mills’s paramour?”

“Aren’t you Gold’s?”

The both sat on the stile in silence, passing the gin between them. Swan leant her head on Killian’s shoulder. Eventually she said, “There is one thing that might help. A thing about Gold. He _wanted_ you. Really wanted you. He saw your picture and he wanted you. He took this handbill to Regina, I think I told you, and showed her your picture. Went on and on about your presence and charisma-“

“Really?” Killian couldn’t help swelling inside a little at this, such was his ego and his vanity.

“Oh yes. He made such a fuss about it that later Regina said she wondered how many times he’d pulled himself off looking at that picture. But the thing was, when he came into the tent going on and on about what a huge draw you’d be, we already had a lion tamer.”

Killian sat up a little straighter. “There was a lion tamer before me?”

“Of course. What, you think you’re the only one in the world? We had a lion tamer then, so Regina wasn’t interested. Whoever heard of a circus with two lion tamers? But then, that very week, Black Beard got offered a job in America. I don’t know how Gold did that, but he did it; I’m sure of it. He did something. Called in a favour. Several favours. Gold put a lot of work into getting you here. He wanted you so much, you know.” Swan whistled. “So, so much.”

Killian nodded. He knew where his talents lay. “Then we just need to make sure he doesn’t forget it.”

*

Swan lit the candles in Madame Mill’s bathroom. Killian hadn’t even known this room was here, behind her bedroom in the opulent tent. “Sorry the fire’s out,” Swan said. “Regina always has heated water, of course. I can’t run to that, but you still have her tub to use, plus all her perfumes and oils, so long as we’re careful.

Killian sat on the side of the tub and painstakingly unfastened the buttons that ran up the outside of his mud covered boots. They were only one of his black pairs - he had seven more - but it still hurt his heart a little that they were probably ruined. He pulled his equally spoiled waistcoat over his head without bothering with the clasps, then stood and started on his filthy breeches. When he peeled them off, Swan made a soft appreciative noise behind him. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Seriously? Aren’t you sly, darling?”

Swan shook her head and laughed. “Only mostly. I know, I know, buddy. Like you need more fuel for your ego.”

He smiled back, as he turned around to face her, then stretched his arms up above his head and winked.

Swan turned away to pile up the towels she’d brought. “Yeah, yeah. I see it, you’re pretty. Get in the tub.”

“Come in with me, if you want,” Killian said, leaning over to swoosh one arm in the water.

“Not a chance. You might be pretty, but you are also covered in mud and…,” she twitched her lips, “stuff. And it’ll be cold as the Arctic Ocean in there.” 

Swan was right. Killian had to swallow a yell as he climbed in to the freezing water. But it still felt good to wash all the filth from his body. “Where does Gold live?” he said, as he soaped his hair with something that, according to the label, was made of Egyptian roses.

Swan was flitting around the bathroom, anxiously removing tiny specs of dirt, wiping away any evidence they’d been in here. “He has some rooms at the back of The Top,” she said, gathering up Killian’s boots from the floor. 

“The Top? He lives in the Big Top?”

“Yes, at the back. Use the south entrance and turn right. There’s a gap in the drapes.

*  
Killian left Swan to clear up the bathroom and, wrapped in a towel, picked his way across the site to his dressing room behind the Big Top. He spent quite a while on his clothes. 

He settled on the snakeskin trousers. They were almost as tight as the stained gold ones, and cut so low that the top of the dark hair around his dick tufted up over the waistband. He almost decided against them. They’d been frighteningly expensive and, as soon as he began to squirm into them, he couldn’t shake the image of Gold bending him over and cutting them off with a knife. Tearing them away roughly, while Killian yelled and sobbed protests, but still helplessly pushed back into every touch. He thought of Gold ripping the fabric from his arse, while he shook with desperation. He thought of Gold baring him, spreading him - not even gently - touching him, pushing his fingers into him. He thought of Gold fucking him, wanted it more than anything. He thought of Gold leaning over him, caging his body, that soft, terrible voice in his ear. _Would you like me to make this hurt for you, Jones? Would you like to feel me for a while after this is done?_

“Yes,” Killian murmured to himself. “Please, Mr Gold. Yes”.

As he fastened the bone buttons of his tight snakeskin trousers over his erection, he decided losing these trousers to that would be worth it.

No shirt, black on his eyes and eyebrows, silver powder at his temples and cheekbones. A silver pendant, silver boots, three big silver rings and a silver bangle…, and when he looked at himself in the mirror, his breath caught in his throat. He looked like something that was desperate to be destroyed. 

*

Killian pushed through the gap in the drapes to find Gold’s room in the back of the Top was as opulent as he would have imagined. Hung with black silk and with a large gold rug covering most of the floor. Wooden cabinets lined the walls and the whole place was lit with candles. The light looked alive. 

There was a wooden four poster bed against the far wall and in front of that a brown leather Chesterfield, on which Gold sat, with a glass in his hand and a livid expression on his face. “How dare you come here, you disgusting creature,” he said, his mouth tight with rage. “Get out.”

Killian swallowed. “You… you don’t want me to get out,” he said, walking carefully into the room. Pretending to be bold.

Gold was wearing a long purple robe, but underneath it, other than his frock coat, he was still wearing all his usual clothes. Even his heeled boots. The purple silk rippled as he stood up, his face still full of anger. “I would strongly advise you, Jones, to do precisely as you are told. You are in enough trouble.” Gold’s voice was trembling. 

Killian stopped in the middle of the thick, gold carpet. “Am I in trouble? What are you going to do then?” He stood up as straight as he could, pulling back his shoulders. He knew how obvious his erection was.

With the purple silk still swaying and rippling, Gold moved nearer and nearer until he was so close that Killian could smell the alcohol-scented breath. “What am I going to do? I’m going to drink this gin,” said Gold, taking a small sip from the misty glass he still held, “and then go to bed with a good book, Jones. So get out.”

Killian shivered. He was waiting for Gold to touch him. This would be easier if Gold would just touch him. He must be able to smell the scent of Egyptian roses and thick, heavy desire. “Please, though,” he said, not even caring about the petulant whine in his voice. “Are you going to…? Are you going to tell people? Madame Mills, I mean. About me? Please don’t. You can’t. She’ll sack me, and I know you want me here. You want me. I know you want me.” Killian’s bare chest was heaving, less than an inch from Gold’s own purple-silk-covered body.

“Oh, don’t fucking push me,” snarled Gold. And for a second after that he just stared at Killian. Killian barely breathed. And then Gold rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, softening very slightly. “I suppose…. a creature like you…” And his breath was catching a little. “Do you need to be punished, Jones? Is that why you’re here. You’re so out of control. I could, I could punish you. You need that from me. We both know you do. Do you want to stand naked in the corner, in disgrace, while I ignore you? I suppose I’ll grant you that. Of course, I know what you really need, but you will have to wait a little longer for it.” A half smile as his teeth grazed his lip. “Don’t worry, I promise I’m keeping score. You will get what’s due to you, soon enough.” Killian had no doubt what Gold was referring to. The gold whip was lying on the Chesterfield. Killian couldn’t swallow his tiny whimper. 

“No, I…” And for all that Killian wanted to stay in control of this, use Gold’s lust against him, his own mouth had gone totally dry again. _Was Gold really going to whip him? When?_ “Please, Mr Gold. Please stop doing this to me.”

Gold moved his face a breath closer to Killian’s and yet still, still didn’t touch him. His eyes lit with something. That lust, Killian supposed, but there was something terrible about it. “Oh no, dearie. I can’t do that. I just can’t. It makes you look so very beautiful.” Gold shook his head, just a tiny fraction. “Now, get on your knees.” 

Killian closed his eyes. Squeezed them shut. Then, after a moment, he opened them and locked his gaze on Gold. Slowly, with his heart banging in the silence, he lowered himself onto one knee, then both. He looked down at Gold’s boots, and said in a tiny, hopeless voice. “Please, please. I can’t do this anymore, Mr Gold. If you want to fuck me, please just fuck me. Just fucking take me.”

“That disgusting mouth.” Gold said, then hummed sweetly. “But I thought you’d never offer, dearie. Now get those ridiculous fucking clothes off.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Gold shook his head, clearly delighted. “You stupid boy. You don’t know what you want. Or what you need. I could see the way you ached for dick as soon as I looked at you. It’s a good job for you I’m here.” He rolled the glass against Killian’s waist. Killian almost gasped. “What a treasure you are. A virgin and a whore. What an honour.”_

“What now? Right now?” Killian looked around the tented room like he was suddenly surprised at where he was. 

“Why?” Gold said, there was a playful note to his voice, but it wasn’t pleasant. “Do you have some other plans?”

Killian shook his head. He got shakily to his feet, his hands already on the buttons of the trousers. “No, no. But I have to tell you something first. I’ve never-”

“You can save your confessions of love for after I’ve fucked you raw, Jones. Get on with what you’ve been told to do.” Gold reached out and tugged at Killian’s waistband. “Come on. How long does it take you to get into those ridiculous things?”.

“I can do it.” Killian snapped, pulling back out of Gold’s reach, as he fumbled his buttons open.

“Don’t speak to me that way, Jones. Unless you want this to end very abruptly.”

Killian looked up at Gold and raised and eyebrow. “Not likely, you want this as much as I do. More, probably.”

“Fucking try me.” Gold snarled. “How often do you touch your dick, Jones?”

“What?” Killian hadn’t expected that and almost choked on his response. “What do you mean?” He'd had managed to kick his boots off and he undid his buttons. He slid the trousers down his legs. 

“You know what I mean.” Gold stepped forward and caught Killian’s jaw as he straightened up. “How often do you masturbate, you disgusting creature?”

“I-I’m not telling you that.” Killian said, swallowing. He was naked in front of Gold now, apart from the silver pendant and his arm brace. His cock was half hard, just from that.

Gold moved even closer and touched Killian’s bare waist with his gin glass. The sensation made Killian’s breath catch. “How often, Jones, do you wrap your hand around that dick of yours and stroke yourself? You clearly bathed before you came here to kneel before me and beg for my cock. Did you do it then? Did you jerk as you washed yourself, thinking of me taking you, holding you down? Thinking of how you would scream for me? You will scream for me, Jones.”

“No!” Killian flushed. It was shameful to admit even such a small thing as that. “And I didn’t beg you to anything to me. I wouldn’t, anyway. I don’t normally. I…, oh god. Mr Gold, I just haven’t done this before.”

Gold frowned. “You haven’t…?” 

“Fucked.” Killian stammered, feeling his face colouring more. “Been fucked. I haven’t been fucked before.”

Gold’s smile in response to this was the biggest and brightest Killian had yet seen. “Oh, you… Are you lying to me, Jones? You hardly seem, chaste.”

“I’m not. I just never did that. Never thought I’d like it.”

Gold shook his head, clearly delighted. “You stupid boy. You don’t know what you want. Or what you need. I could see the way you ached for dick as soon as I looked at you. It’s a good job for you I’m here.” He rolled the glass against Killian’s waist. Killian almost gasped. “What a treasure you are. A virgin and a whore. What an honour.” 

“I’m hardly a-“

“Shush. shush.” Gold’s hand was still holding Killian’s chin and Gold seemed almost _enamoured_. Almost loving. “Are you going to ask me to be gentle with you when I take you to my bed, like a blushing maiden?” Gold stroked his fingers over Killian’s lips.

“I’m not…” Killian stopped. “No. Please… please don’t be gentle. Don’t.” And Killian pushed out his tongue and licked at Gold’s hand where it was covering his mouth. Opening up, after a moment, and letting Gold’s first two fingers press between his lips.

“Good. Because I’m not going to. I know you want it rough.” Gold pressed his fingers deeper, running the pads over Killian’s tongue.

Killian nodded, lowering his gaze. Gold gave a soft _oh_ of desire, then pulled his fingers out of Killian’s mouth. “So. On the bed there, Jones. And fetch that pair of handcuffs from the cabinet, as you pass it.”

Killian had already half turned away, he looked back. “Handcuffs? Why do you need handcuffs? I’m not going to run away?”

“I don’t need the handcuffs, dearie. You do.”

And, as Killian crossed the room and grabbed the cuffs, feeling the unexpected weight that David liked to use to make a pretty girl’s eyes stretch wide, he couldn’t deny how hard the idea had made him; how ready.

*

As Killian got onto the bed, Gold was close behind him. He’d let the purple silk robe slip off his shoulders leaving him in shirt sleeves. “On your belly, Jones. This isn’t a romance,”

Killian rolled over and Gold climbed up and straddled his waist. Killian didn’t have a second to say anything, or even think before Gold had leant down and snapped a handcuff bracelet around his right wrist, ratcheting tight. The weight of it was awkward, not painful, but impossible to ignore. 

Gold attached the connecting chain of the cuffs to a small ring in the middle of the headboard. The existence of that ring made Killian’s breath catch. It was small and discreet, but clearly for no other purpose than this. Gold paused at the second bracelet. “Ah, I’m not sure if this will work with your…”

Killian looked up at his chained hand and his hook. “Yes it will,” he said, slightly impatient. “Just put the bracelet before the brace. The brace is thicker than my wrist. Tighten it so it won’t slip over. The brace doesn’t move, when it’s strapped on properly. You don’t have to worry, I won’t be able to… I, I won’t be able to…” And he lost his words to breathlessness at the thought of what was to be done.

“Won’t be able to what? Escape? I know you can’t escape.” Gold laughed lightly. “Ah, yes, that will work. You’ve done this before, then?” Gold took hold of Killian’s left wrist.

“No. I’ve never… I’ve never been handcuffed,” Killian said, panting slightly, staring at the second handcuff bracelet. He rolled his hips against the bed.

“You’ve thought about it then?” And with that, Gold secured the second bracelet tightly behind Killian’s brace, and Killian, realising how secure this was, that he really couldn’t possibly get loose, moaned out loud with lust. “Oh yes.” said Gold. “You have thought about it.” He caught Killian’s chin. “Say ‘thank you’, Jones.”

“Thank you for handcuffing me, Mr Gold,” Killian managed, as all four of Gold’s smooth fingers slipped into his mouth.

Gold pressed his fingers in and out of Killian’s mouth a couple of times, forcing Killian to suck them like a dick, until wetness was running down his chin onto the pillow under him. Killian was whimpering around Gold’s fingers, before Gold pulled them away and moved down to carefully push one of them inside him. 

“There,” Gold breathed, as he reached the first knuckle. “There you go. The blushing virgin is no more.”

Killian sighed, annoyed. “I’ve had a fucking finger inside me. I’m not some innocent, no matter how much that turns you on.”

Gold slipped his finger free again. His voice was dark, suddenly. Dark and careful. “I am warning you now, Jones, if that disgusting mouth says anything more, that isn’t directly related to how much you need to be fucked, this will end and I will leave you chained to my bed, untouched until you are lying in your own cooling piss.” He caressed Killian’s hole with the pad of his finger, making Killian whimper, wanting it back. “And then you will find yourself out of this tent, out of this circus and fucking destitute. You will remember your place, Jones. Say you understand.”

“I understand, Mr Gold,” Killian said with a whimper and Gold pushed his finger back into him.

Killian could feel Gold pouring something onto his hand as a second finger slipped inside him. Something slippery. The slip made Gold’s fingers move and slide over and into him easily. Too easily. The wetness made it feel like he was so wanton for it. It made him breath go. The humiliation of being made so open and wet and slippery there. Like he was so desperate. _He was so desperate._

Gold had three fingers working in and out of Killian, when one of them slipped over a place inside that made him moan and arch, lifting his head from the pillow. Gold said softly, “Oh, no, no. The brave lion tamer doesn’t like this. No.” He made the same move again and Killian whimpered more loudly. Gold’s fingers were relentless after that. Pressing in, around. Pressing over and over. Teasing and ghosting over that pleasure place; right there but never quite enough. Just promising something, like a terrible hopeless hope. 

Killian jolted and rattled at the cuffs. “How long? Please, how long until you fuck me?”

Gold slipped his fingers free and leant forward, a hand on Killian’s shoulder and lips pressed to his ear. “How long? Until you think you’ll die without me inside you, Jones. Until all you can do is beg.”

Gold moved back down Killian’s body and his fingers returned. But not even inside Killian this time, just coasting around and around the edge as if they might slip inside him at any moment, but never quite… never quite. And the way Gold was doing it, it seemed as if he would happily keep up this teasing little dance for a long, long time.

Killian wailed. “Please. No. Stop! Please. Put them back. Put them back inside me.” He would rather be left with no touch at all than this. Better nothing than this torture. 

“Is there a problem?” Gold asked, sweetly. His slippery fingers still moving around and around and just not, not there.

“Please. Oh god, please. Will you please fuck me. I know you want to fuck me. I know you set up some elaborate, ridiculous plan just so you could get me here and seduce me and fuck me. Well, it’s worked and here I am, and so would you please just fuck me.” For this whole speech Killian’s voice was fading in and out, words falling over each other, half of them vanishing into gasps.

“I told you, Jones, I will not fuck you until you are begging me for it”.

Killian almost screamed with frustration. “I am begging you now. What the hell do you think I’m doing?”

“You think that is begging?” Gold’s voice was sharp and vicious. “You’re nowhere near it, you pathetic creature. You arrogant fucking peacock. I am going to fucking break you, Jones.” Gold slipped his thumb into Killian, so quick and sudden he caught his breath.

Killian wrenched at the cuffs, trying hopelessly to drive himself backward, crushed his face into the pillow and screamed, “You fucking bastard. Fucking fuck me.”

“You will remember how to speak to me correctly, Jones,” Gold said as his thumb slipped free again, leaving Killian with not touch at all.

Killian swallowed hard. “Fine. Mr Gold,” he choked out. “Fuck me, Mr Gold. Please.”

“Sir.”

Killian was lost in sensation and lack of sensation, hardly registering. “What?” 

“You will say, please fuck me, sir.”

Killian rolled his face into the damp pillow. “No. No, no.” He couldn’t… It was too much. He just couldn’t…

“If you are not willing to do even that one simple thing to get fucked, you can’t want it as much as you whine that you do. No matter, we both know you will say it in the end. But you can draw this out as long as your stupid pride feels it needs to.” 

Killian whimpered. He knew it was true. He lifted his hips and slammed then down again, more from hopelessness than to relieve any tension. No amount of friction against the bed would help. There was only one thing he wanted now.

He didn’t get it. Gold moved up and kissed the back of Killian’s neck, roughly. It wasn’t a bite, just a harsh kiss with a drag of teeth to it like a nasty promise. Then, slowly and with a soft hum, he slid his tongue down Killian’s spine. He was a little more than halfway down his body when Killian realised where Gold’s tongue was going, and he pressed his face down harder into the pillow and sobbed.

Gold spread Killian with one hand, and his tongue took one soft graze over Killian’s hole. Just one, touch like a feather. Almost no touch at all. Killian just whimpered. Then Gold lifted his head. “Would you like me to do that again?”

“Yes,” said Killian in a rough whisper. He had screamed and begged so much now, his voice a scrape.

“Then you know what I want. In fact, I don’t just want that. Promise me anything. Tell me you’ll do anything for it, for my mouth. Tell me I can do anything to you in return for this.” Gold touched his tongue into the maw of the open little hole. Killian hissed with pleasure. _Maybe it was pleasure._

“Anything?” Again, Killian’s voice felt like it was being dragged out of him. “You want me to say I’ll do anything?”

Gold smacked Killian’s arse hard. Killian yelped. “Stop playing games. You know what I want. Do it, Jones. Do it or this ends.”

Killian swallowed. “ _Sir,_ ” he said. It was just a shaped breath, but he hated the word. Hated everything, every last thing about this. “I’ll do anything, sir. Anything you want. Please fuck me, sir. Or just please put your tongue inside me, sir. Oh god, oh fuck, please, just touch me, please touch me.”

Gold drew his tongue over Killian’s hole again and, despite himself, Killian screamed for it. He tried to thrust back, but both Gold’s hands were holding him in place now and he barely moved at all. But he was rewarded with another swipe, and then another, firmer this time. A few more long strokes and then Gold’s tongue moved in little hard, tight flicks, while Killian sobbed and writhed. His dick was so hard he was light headed with it. He was almost completely lost, when Gold’s tongue went into him. 

Then Killian’s hand was a sudden, tight fist, his nails digging into his palm. He let out a deep wailing cry, that turn into more sobbing, as Gold fucked him hard with his tongue. It was still just a tease, really. Gold’s tongue couldn’t ever be what he truly needed. But the way it moved inside him, what it suggested, still made his whole body thrash. He wasn’t even really moaning now, just whimpering incoherently, so desperate to be fucked.

Finally Gold lifted his head and Killian sobbed a little harder at the loss. But only for a moment, because Gold repositioned himself, and Killian knew from the way he’d moved, what was coming next.

“Tell me I own you,” cooed Gold, the head of his dick right against Killian’s slick, needy hole. 

There was no pride making Killian pause now. “You own me, sir. I belong to you. Oh, just, please, _please_.” 

And even then, Killian half thought Gold still wouldn’t do it. That this would just be another game. But then Gold moved. His dick slipped inside, just the tiniest bit. _But, oh, at last._

“Yes.” Killian moaned. “Yes, sir. Yes.” 

It didn’t hurt. Or, if it did, he didn’t feel it. All he felt was relief. Relief that, yes, _finally_ … And then Killian let out a long keening wail as Gold’s cock hit that spot inside him that made him feel like he never wanted to feel anything else. Gold moved slowly, for a couple of thrusts, sliding his slick cock languorously over Killian’s sensitive spot, almost like he was revelling in what he was doing, how he was making Killian drown in sensations.

But Killian couldn’t revel in this soft touch for long. This slow pleasure couldn’t satisfy his tormented body and his own desperate desires. He wanted more, of course he did. “Please,” Killian managed after a moment. “Please, sir, harder. Fuck me harder. Fuck me hard. You said you would.”

“Oh good boy, Jones,” Gold breathed, drawing slowly out. 

He paused before he slammed back in. A second’s respite, and then it was just brutal. It was hard and it was relentless. It was Gold’s dick hammering into Killian with no care to it but Gold’s own pleasure. Killian was quickly frantically-sobbing and useless. Broken now. 

His dick was so hard and he was suddenly so close - from Gold inside him, the friction against the bed and most of all being like this, being so tormented and used. He could feel himself on the edge of coming. And Gold reached under Killian and grabbed the base of his dick, holding it tight, and still fucking him viciously hard. Killian wailed. Gold’s voice was breathy with exertion. “You will only come when I tell you that you can, Jones. You will ask my permission to come.”

“What? What?” Killian sobbed. 

“If you’re confused by that concept” Gold panted in his ear, “I suggest you work it out pretty quick, Jones.”

Killian was just wailing and wailing, thrashing in the handcuffs. He was trapped right in the edge of an orgasm. It was the cruellest torment yet and Killian felt like he would lose his mind if he didn’t come soon. He struggled in the midst of Gold’s relentless fucking to find words that would work, “Sir, please, sir. Can I come? Please let me come.”

Gold cooed with delight and murmured, “You have my permission to come, Jones.” At the same moment he let go of Killian’s dick and Killian’s body responded. His orgasm tore out of him. So intense and so long, he almost didn’t feel Gold’s harder, less controlled thrusts as he came too, fingernails digging viciously into Killian’s shoulders.

*

There were several moments of breathing before Gold slipped his dick out of Killian and took a key from beside the bed. Killian winced as the cuffs came off. The red marks on both Killian’s wrists were an inch wide and bloodied in places. He shivered at the sight of them, disgusted at what had been done to him. What he had allowed to be done and what he had done himself.

“Those belong to David.” Killian said. “You stole them.”

“Stole?” Gold said, climbing off Killian and settling himself on the bed. “I found them. The idiot creature left them behind after his show three days ago. If he’d even thought to come and look in he most obvious place he’d have found them. But you’re right. They are his. Why don’t you return them to him?”

“Now?” Killian frowned. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Wake him up then. He really wants them back.”

“No. I’m not going to do that.” Killian wasn’t even sure if he could move. Carefully he rolled onto his back, away from Gold and stretched out his arms. Even that felt like more than he was capable of.

“Do as you’re told. I can still pay a visit to Madame Mills in the morning.”

Killian sat up, still moving gingerly. “After that? After I just let you do that to me.”

Gold looked amused. “You didn’t _let_ me do anything, Jones. I took what I wanted and I will continue to do so. And you will obey me. Now get up and take those cuffs to Mr Nolan.” Gold took the cuffs from were they’d fallen on the pillow and held them out to Killian. 

Killian took the cuffs, sighed and slid out of bed. Every part of his body protested as he moved. His legs were still shaking as he pulled on his tight trousers. “Can I wear your jacket, if I am to go outside?” Killian said. Gold’s red frock coat was folded on the back of the Chesterfield.

Gold looked at him as if irritated by the question. “No, you may not.”

“It’s still raining out there.” Killian folded his arms over his bare chest. He was almost pouting. “Give me your jacket or I won’t go.”

“You will do what I tell you, Jones.” Gold had climbed into the bed properly, spread the blanket over this knees. He put on a pair of reading glasses and picked up a book. Sulking, Killian spun on his heel and stalked out of the tent.

He knew why Gold hadn’t allowed him a jacket.

As he left, Gold called, “Then come right back here. We need to discuss your future conduct.”

 

*

When Killian slouched back into Gold’s room he looked up from his book, brightly. “Did you give the handcuffs to Mr Nolan?”

“Yes.” Killian wasn’t sure where to put himself. He didn’t want to get too near to Gold, and so he ended up stopping in the middle of the rug, as he’d done when he first arrived. He was wet. There were water droplets on his skin; his hair was damp. He was shivering a little from the cold, but he knew this looked good like this. He lifted a hand and pushed his damp hair back from his face. 

He saw Gold swallow at this, but he regained himself rapidly. “Did Mr Nolan look at the marks on your wrists?”

And the ego went out of Killian like air from a balloon. He looked down. Of course David had seen the livid red marks on both Killian’s wrists. Ensuring those marks would be humiliatingly visible had been why Gold had refused him a jacket. “Yes,” Killian said to the floor.

He wasn’t looking, but he could hear the sadistic smile in Gold’s voice. “Did he assume you’d taken his handcuffs, then? Taken them and begged someone - anyone, probably - to chain you down and use you.”

Killian looked up. “I don’t bloody know, do I? I’m not Mary the fucking Mystic.” He was seething with anger. His chest was heaving. “Why are you doing this? Wasn’t all that-“ he gestured to the bed, “-enough? Wasn’t that enough? Why do you have to make me…? Why do you have to shame me on top of all that?”

Gold shrugged as if that question had amused him. Then raised his book. “Get out now, Jones, you are boring me.”

Killian paused. “But you said you wanted to discuss something, Mr Gold.” He couldn’t bring himself to say his ‘future conduct’.

“Oh, yes, Jones.” Gold set his book aside again and looked up. “I will not be requiring you to call me Mr Gold any longer. You will continue to call me sir, from now until I decide you deserve to call me master.”

“What? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Gold was smiling. “Are you fucking kidding me, sir.” 

“That’s never going to happen. I’ll never call you that,” Killian said, turning away.

Gold cooed with delight. To Killian’s retreating back, he said, “I’m going to whip you next time, Jones. We’ll see what you call me then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, obv, don't do that with handcuffs in real life. These are circus people


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Killian had to force himself to keep his face straight as Gold’s fingers pushed through the split seam and caressed him. “Ah,” said Gold gently. “And who here would have taken a bet that you wore anything underneath these gaudy monstrosities.” And one of his fingers, coated with a little oil or something similar, slipped into Killian._

Next morning, when the cats were sleepy from eating and lay down, Killian lay down with them. It had stopped raining and was so sunny and warm there in the straw, he wondered if it would matter to anyone at all, if he just lay here forever…

…“Why did David tell Regina you stole his handcuffs?”

Killian looked up. Swan was looking at him through the bars. She looked amused. 

He threw one arm across his face and looked at her sleepily. “I didn’t steal them. He just left them in the Top. I found them last night.”

Swan whistled. “Found them when you went to see Gold? How did that go?”

“Fine. He’s not going to say anything.” Killian rolled his shoulders against Samson’s flank, still not quite read to move.

“Fine?” Swan shoved her hands deep into her pockets. “It went fine? How come you never came by last night to tell how it had gone then? If it was so fine?”

“It was the middle of the night. What was I meant to do? Come climbing to Madame Mills’s bed with the pair of you.”

Swan winked. “It’s a big bed.”

“Aye, I don’t really want my dick cut off and fed to the cats, thanks.” Killian smiled at her. Madame Mills terrified him; terrified everyone. Maybe Swan liked that. Maybe that was how it worked for her. He swallowed - best not to think about that. “Listen, Swan I’m going to give trade a rest for a bit. I need a break.”

“Like that was it?” said Swan, looking genuinely downcast. “I’ll miss you up there.”

“Sorry. You should get another dick, though. Silly not to deal in it at all. David?”

“David?” Swan laughed “David, take a dick? He wouldn’t know which end is which.”

Killian untangled himself from Samson and stood up and stretched. He saw Swan’s eyes slip over him. He wondered how many of the marks on his body she could match to an act he had allowed Gold to perform on him. Wondered if she could guess how he’d begged for them.

“Maybe,” said Killian, as he began to climb up the inside of the cage. “How about the chap in the top hat then. He looks fruity as fuck.” He straddled the top of the cage as he finished, and dropped to the ground next to Swan, landing solid on both feet, so close to her she jumped.

“He’s a not a fruit,” said Swan. “At least I don’t think so. He’s a magician. Hence the hat. Hence the fucking white rabbit. And, look, thanks for the advice, Killian, but how about I do my job and you do yours, huh?” as she spoke, Swan took Killian’s arm and swung him around, so, together, both of them began to walk back towards the main hub of the site. 

“That top hat guy’s in the show? I’ve never seen him.” The site was getting busy. Killian thought he might go to the mess tent now. He was suddenly, unbearably hungry. Get some porridge or something, eat it somewhere sunny, then take a nap in the shade. It was going to be a hot day.

“He’s on in the first half. Aren’t you busy lacing up your corset then?”

Killian smiled and thumped her arm. “Why are you such a shit to me?”

“Heard you like it.” Killian laughed and thumped her arm again, but he wasn’t really sure how he felt about that. And then, as they turned into the mess, Killian glanced over and saw Gold was sitting on a barrel just outside the Top, staring at them both. In his hands, was the gold whip.

*

Three sunny days later, Madame Mills called a meeting in the Top. These meeting weren’t unusual, and were often dull, but Killian was here early because he’d heard there were going to change the running order, and he felt certain he was due a rise in status. 

He was lolling at the back, against the tented wall, when Gold - who had not spoken to him since the night they’d fucked - came and stood next to him. Without looking, Gold said, “Go and fetch your coat and put it on. Then come back here.”

“Why?” Killian was wearing his red leather trousers and nothing else. It was hot in the tent. He had no desire to put his heavy leather coat on.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Jones. I have something for you.”

“I wish you’d make your mind up.” Killian huffed, hoping Gold couldn’t tell his sudden proximity had made Killian’s heart race. “Wear more clothes, wear less clothes. I don’t get a jacket when it’s raining. Now it’s blazing and you want me to wear a coat. How am I supposed to know what you want me to do?”

“I might suggest that you start on that quest by obeying when I give you a direct order, dearie” Gold said, keeping his eyes forward.

“I don’t,” - Killian was panting now, coming apart already - “I don’t have to do what you say.”

“Of course you do, Jones. You want to. It turns you on. Don’t say anything else, now. Just do as you’ve been told. And you’ll remember what you call me when you return.”

Killian exhaled hard, but didn’t argue further. He turned and marched out of the tent, past the steady flow of circus folk coming in, and hurried across the site to his caravan. Ducking through the door, he grabbed his coat, threw it over his shoulders and was back with Gold, panting from the exertion a little, in only a few minutes. He felt a little ashamed of how easily - almost eagerly - he’d obeyed. He could barely look Gold in the eye.

Gold smiled, “Good boy,” he said and the phrase made Killian’s breath catch as he took up his same position, standing against the wall next to Gold.

Madame Mills was in the sawdust ring of the Top. Killian scanned the crowd for Swan and saw her across the tent. She was staring at Madame Mills. Staring like she couldn’t look away. He’d never seen Swan look at anything or anyone like that. Next to Killian, Gold slipped a hand behind him and up through the vent of his coat. Killian tensed and gasped as Gold’s hand cupped his arse through his red leather trousers. “Don’t react, Jones,” he said quietly. “Now, do you like these ridiculous trousers?”

“What? Yes. Of course I do. What are you going to do?” Killian’s eyes flickered around the Top. No one was looking at them, but that seemed like small comfort given that Gold clearly had something planned that involved being hidden under his coat. 

“Shame,” Gold murmured. And then Killian felt something hard and cold against his backside. 

“What the hell is that?” He was still whispering, but his voice was sharp with anger. His heart racing with fear… he thought it was fear. 

“You know what it is, Jones. And you will remember how you speak to me.” Gold pressed the knife to the back seam of the rear of Killian’s trousers. It must have been razor sharp. As he slid it from bottom the top, every stitch popped open.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Killian’s dick stirred in his trousers at this invasion. 

“No,” said Gold, calmly.

Killian gritted his teeth. “What the fuck are you doing, Mr Gold?”

Gold made a short, light chuckling noise. “Better. You’ll get there. And it’s just the seam. Take them to Granny later if you’re so bereft. I told you. I have something for you.”

Killian had to force himself to keep his face straight as Gold’s fingers pushed through the split seam and caressed him. “Ah,” said Gold gently. “And who here would have taken a bet that you wore anything underneath these gaudy monstrosities.” And one of his fingers, coated with a little oil or something similar, slipped into Killian.

And that was all it took for Killian’s dick to get so, so fucking hard. He plunged his hands into the pockets of his coat and dragged it around himself, pulling it closed at the front to try and hide his crotch. Fighting not to tense his body, pricklingly aware of the people all around him, while - at the same time - unable to focus on anything but Gold inside him. Gold who was just a fraction away from…

\- “Ah,” said Gold. “There were go.” -

…at that touch, Killian’s knees turned to water. He only just managed to crush down his moan into nothing but an open mouthed gasp. When he looked across the room, frantic at being seen fall apart like this, he saw Swan watching them. It brought him out of the sensation for a moment, and then Gold stroked him again and it was everything he had not to react, as Swan nodded to him and looked away.

Gold’s finger kept stroking him, teasing, making him struggle not to moan aloud. Eventually, regaining a little control, Killian clenched his jaw and sucked air in hard through his nose. “What have you got against my trousers, Mr Gold?” he managed, in a soft undertone.

“What have I got against you dressing like you're asking for it? Like anyone can have you?” Gold hissed. “What do you think, Jones? You belong to me. You need to remember that. I’ve got something that might help.” Gold stroked Killian one more time, then pulled his hand away and brought it to his own pocket…

…when Gold’s hand returned, he was holding something.

Killian gasped a little too loudly at the feel of the sudden blunt object. David, a few feet away, turned around. Killian flashed his eyebrows, and David nodded looked away, bending his head to whisper something to Mary. But before Killian could really process that, Gold pushed the object into him. 

“What the bloody hell is that?” he said. He said it too loudly. And then, just as Gold whisked his hand away, everyone was looking at him.

From the stage Madame Mills’s voice rang out,“Mr Jones,” she said, “did you have a point you wished to make about the drainage?”

“N-no, uh, Madame Mills,” Killian practically squeaked. The plug inside him was wide, and with Madame Mills and most of the tent looking at him, he couldn’t even squirm. He tried his hardest to breathe steadily.

“Fine,” said Madame Mills. “Perhaps you could keep quiet, in that case. And now the final item, the reason so many of you have turned up for this, especially you, Mr Jones, the new running order, which will take effect from the matinee this afternoon.” 

As Madame Mills looked away from him, Killian felt Gold’s hand slip back under his coat. He rested the flat of his palm over the plug. “I know it’s difficult for you, Jones,” Gold said softly, “but do try not draw any undue attention to yourself.” 

Gold twisted the plug. Killian’s dick jerked so hard he thought he might actually come, right there, just from that. He sucked in air hard through is nose and tried to listen to what Madame Mills was saying, “…and we’ll close with The Seven Dwarves, followed by Mr Jones and his lions and The Flying Monkeys remain as the headliners. Any questions?”

Gold maliciously twisted the plug again. Killian bit down hard on his bottom lip. He tried with all his might to focus on what just happened. This was better than he could have dreamed. He’d never get top of the bill over the spectacle of the aerialists. But he was now the penultimate act. This must come with a pay rise. But it didn’t matter. He was coming to pieces. He looked over at Gold, who held his gaze while he fucked the plug in and out of him a little. Gold’s tongue flickered over his lips. Killian groaned very softly; his thighs were shaking. He had no control, none. Gold would be able to make him come if he kept this up, he was sure of it. “Please,” he said, “please stop.” His voice was ragged and breathy.

“If you want me to stop, one word, Jones.”

Killian swallowed. “Sir,” he said, still keeping his voice low. “Please. Please stop.”

Gold smiled and pulled his hand away. Around them people were leaving the tent. Gold spun away from the wall and went to pass Killian. “I’ve missed you, Jones,” he said, trailing a hand against his hip. “I’ll come and see you after the evening show.”

“After the show? After the evening show?” Killian swallowed. He didn't need to ask to know he wasn’t going to be permitted to remove the thing in his rear himself. Which meant…

“Too much for you, Jones?” said Gold. A playful light in his eyes.

Killian lifted his jaw. “No, sir.”

*

Killian was bent over his dressing table, using a rag to remove the traces of glitter that had slicked down his face. He’d sweated a lot more tonight, but it had been okay, perhaps even worth it. Perhaps, he fancied as he sucked in his cheeks and turned his neck to admire his profile, he had even been a little better tonight - sharper, more dangerous. 

And then a voice behind him said, quite suddenly, “You know, I’ve never kissed you, Jones. Have you noticed that?” and he lit up inside like a million, million candles. 

Killian looked at Gold in the mirror. “Not really,” he said carefully. He focussed on breathing, keeping that steady and continued wiping his face, as Gold came to stand behind him. Gold was holding the whip. Killian shivered. The way he was bent over, with Gold so close behind him, he hadn’t felt so conscious of the thing in his arse since Gold had placed it there. 

“I’m not going to kiss you,” said Gold. “But you may kiss this.” Gold reached over Killian’s shoulders and held the whip in front of his face. Killian’s stomach turned over.

He raised his eyes to Gold in the mirror, clenched his teeth and said, “No."

Gold sighed. “Really, dearie? This again? I may grow tired of your stubbornness in time, you know.” Gold moved a little closer. His thigh pressed against the plug, and the tiny bit of pressure made Killian moan. “Kiss it, Jones. You know I’m the only person who can give you what you need.” Killian swallowed. He closed his eyes and Gold pushed against the plug again. “Oh no. Don’t close your eyes. Look at yourself. See yourself do it.”

Killian moaned again, perhaps because of the pressure, perhaps the order, and he opened his eyes. His stage make up was half-smeared, running in glittery spider webs down both cheeks, and he had raging, awful want painted all over his face. “Yes, sir,” he whispered, and slowly and deferently, he kissed the shaft of the whip Gold held in front of his face. Behind him, and to his great satisfaction, Killian felt Gold’s groin twitch.

“Now, I know it’s hard for you to control your filthy mouth, so let me help you, Jones.” Gold tapped the whip against Killian’s lips. Killian opened his mouth obediently and Gold gently put the whip between his teeth. “And if there’s a single tooth mark on it afterwards, Jones, I’ll put an even bigger plug inside you and we’ll do the whole thing over.” Killian moaned.

Gold shifted a little behind Killian so he could reach over and unfasten his breeches. They were black satin with a spiral design in gold sequins. Gold slipped them down to Killian’s knees, where they hit the tops of his boots, and he left them tangled there. Killian’s arms were braced on the dressing table, holding him up, but when Gold slipped the plug out of him, he cried out loudly, and his elbows buckled so hard he almost tipped into the mirror.

Gold made a show of bringing the plug to his lips and licking it, eyes lit with lust, then looked down at Killian’s arse. “Look at that.” Gold said. “Do you ache there, Jones? I bet you’re ready to be fucked now.”

“Yes, sir. Please, sir.” Killian said around the whip in his mouth. He wanted it so much he was almost sobbing. He could barely keep his hips still. His dick was dripping. 

Gold ducked down behind Killian and ran his tongue over his sore hole. Killian gasped and jerked so hard the whole dressing table shook. “Yes,” Gold said, staying out of sight. “I haven’t even begun to show you the things I can do to you here, Jones.” Gold licked Killian again, more firmly this time. Firm enough that Killian groaned out loud as his knees buckled and this time his head did bang into the mirror. 

Gold chuckled and kissed him, then straightened. “You’re wondering about me whipping you, aren’t you? You know how much you deserve it now. But you want to know how much it’s going to hurt.” In the mirror, Killian saw Gold lick his lips. “Perhaps think on it this way, they use these for horses, Jones. To break them and make them obey. You want that don’t you?” Gold leant over Killian and gently took the whip from his mouth.

Killian waited. He watched in the mirror as Gold took a step behind him. And then another. 

And turned around.

“Goodbye, Jones.”

Killian’s jolted. “What? You’re just…? You’re leaving?”

Gold’s reflection turned back and smiled in the dirty glass, flexing the whip in his hands. “You know how things go by now, surely. I don’t do anything to you until you ask me to do it.

“I’m hardly going to ask you to whip me.”

“Aren’t you?” Gold said, turning away again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Killian’s body responded so hard and so fast to Gold pushing against him. Before he’d even taken in what was happening, his chest was heaving. His dick was hard. Gold slipped his thigh between Killian’s legs. Killian moaned and pushed back onto it, grinding the black leather that covered his crotch down onto the pressure. So desperate, so quickly._

Killian stayed where he was - just listening to his own uneven breathing in the empty dressing room, and watching the slightly askew curtain where Gold had vanished. He felt sure, at first, Gold was just playing another game, was just out there, about to come back in and shove him down over the dressing table. 

But he wasn’t and he didn’t.

Eventually, when Killian heard laughing voices just outside, he decided that even he, did not want to be caught by whomsoever was passing, dismantled and dripping like this in his own dressing room, so he straightened up, fastened his breeches and did the most cursory job possible of removing his make up. That done, he near-sprinted to his caravan, his plan now, being that if Gold would not satisfy him, at least he could satisfy himself. At least he could take care of the things that had been left undone. 

He was so focussed on this goal, he might have missed the neat piece of white card that had been slipped under the door of his caravan; might have, but didn’t. He picked it up and held it as he flopped onto his bed. His hook was already in his waistband when he saw what it said. 

The handwriting was neat. Perfect, black copperplate lettering. And all it said was, _Not without permission, Jones._

Killian reread the words twice. He breathing quickened as he took them in. And then he moaned out loud in the empty caravan - not even sure if it was frustration or arousal. His dick was hard when he dropped the card on the floor and flung his left arm across his face. Sleeping was going to be difficult now. 

*

Three uncomfortable days passed before Killian saw Gold again outside of showtimes. It was lunchtime and Killian was eating soup in the mess tent - had finished eating it really, half pushed the bowl away - when he looked up from his book and there was Gold, standing just outside where the canvas had been drawn back for light and air. When Killian caught his eye, Gold jerked his head, beckoning, and Killian stood up so quickly he sent his soup bowl clattering across the table.

The bowl had rolled in the direction of - though not hit - Belle and Ruby, who both raised their eyebrows at him then returned to, what appeared to be, planning a new knife throwing act, on the back of a scrap of paper. With a dashed apology to them both, Killian turned and ran out of the tent, just in time to see Gold vanishing behind a huge pile of stage flats by the Top. He rushed to follow him. 

As he rounded the corner of the pile of flats, he slammed straight into Gold, who was standing square right behind them. Killian sprung away, but Gold caught his upper arms, swinging him around so his back was against the flats. They were still pressed close together. Killian’s body responded so hard and so fast to Gold pushing against him. Before he’d even taken in what was happening, his chest was heaving. His dick was hard. Gold slipped his thigh between Killian’s legs. Killian moaned and pushed back onto it, grinding the black leather that covered his crotch down onto the pressure. So desperate, so quickly.

“So, Jones, I was going to ask you if you’d got my note. But that’s not really necessary is it?” Gold slipped a hand down each of Killian’s arms and tightened his grip at each wrist, trapping Killian in place. “This really has had the desired effect on you, hasn’t it.”

Killian rolled his head back. He couldn’t keep his hips still.“What? I don’t know, sir. Please fuck me, sir. Please fuck me and make me come, sir.” Not being allowed to come had made Killian burn with desire. And, specifically, desire for Gold. It had been Killian’s standard practise, for years, to jerk himself off every night before he slept. For the last three nights, with that denied him, he had lain panting in his bed, his hand alongside his hard dick and thought about nothing except Gold fucking him.

Gold looked happier than Killian had ever seen him. “Developed a taste for being fucked now, have you? While that’s delightful, Jones, is that really what you want? Right now?” Gold made a show of looking to the left and right. “You want me to take you right here?”

“Anywhere,” Killian breathed. “Anywhere, whatever you want. Sweet Jesus.”

Gold squinted, considering for a moment, as Killian kept grinding onto his him. “No. I don’t care to.” Another thoughtful pause. “In fact, I’ve changed my mind about this whole business. Outside. During the day. So sordid.” Gold let go of Killian’s wrists, drew back his thigh and took half a pace away. Almost absent mindedly, he dusted off his lapels.

Killian’s eyes went wide with horror. “Please, sir. No. I need to come. Please.”

Gold sighed, dramatically. “Your constant selfish demands make my head ache. Come and see me later, dearie. We’ll discuss the issue. Present yourself in my rooms after the show.” He nodded. “That is all for now.” 

Gold went to turn away, and, as he did so, Killian grabbed hold of his shirt front, yanking him in close again. Gold looked down at Killian’s hand on him, then up again and said, “You will unhand me immediately, Jones.”

“No,” Killian growled, gripping tighter, almost as if he was, for the first time, realising he was the stronger man. “Tell me. Tell me what you’re going to do to me. Just tell me…” He was breathing hard. His voice cracked a little as he said, “…p-please.”

Gold’s face softened. “Ah. So that’s it,” he said, reaching up and gently untangling Killian’s hand from his shirt. “Your perpetual need for my attention, though tiresome, can be charming, dearie. Come to my rooms tonight, after the show. Kneel before me and beg, and in return I will whip you and, if it pleases me, after I have done so, I will fuck you.”

Killian moaned with need. “And you’ll make me come?”

Gold’s smiled spread further across his harsh face. “No. No, I won’t.”

*

Killian had walked away from Gold that afternoon determined not to appear, as demanded, in his rooms after the show. Why should he, when Gold had made it so clear he was only going to be used - beaten even - for Gold’s pleasure, with no release for himself? The audacity of Gold, to even tell him such a thing upfront and expect him to present himself anyway…

And when Killian did present himself anyway, he wasn’t quite sure, when he had changed his mind.

And there was Gold, smiling, in his purple robe. And there was the whip on the back of the Chesterfield. And there was Killian Jones, the lion tamer, in the red leather trousers Granny had repaired without a single question as to how then had suffered such damage.

And this, this was madness. 

Gold regarded Killian almost casually, “I believe you know what you’re required to do, Jones.”

Slowly, Killian got onto his knees on the rug. He bowed his head, looking at his own thighs, spread on the carpet. There was a soft sound of movement as Gold stood, and came over him. When his shiny black boots were in Killian’s eyeline, Gold said, “What do you wish to say to me, Jones?”

“Please, sir,” said Killian, feeling his dick stir at the words, “please sir, will you fuck me, sir?”

“Fuck you, is it? Are you sure that’s what you are to ask for?” Gold’s tone was cold and precise. Killian knew that voice by now; knew he wouldn’t waver. Knew he’d have to do as he’d been told to.

He swallowed. “No. Please, sir, whip me? Would you? And then, if you enjoy that, would you fuck me, sir. Fuck me, please.”

“I see.” Above Killian’s head, Killian heard Gold groan softly. The boots in his eye line shifted. “Anything else, you would like to say to me?”

“Yes, sir. After that, if I’m good. Please, can I come? Please?”

Gold made a soft noise. It seemed to be a sound of pleasure. “I believe we’ve already discussed this.”

Killian shuddered. He knew, absolutely knew he couldn’t get through this night without a release. “Make me come, sir. Please. Please make me come. I’ll do everything you want.” His voice was a whine. He was, already, close to sobbing with want. 

Killian was sure then, that Gold’s thighs inside his breeches shook at little. “It sounds, rather,” Gold whispered, “like you have begun to think you are the one who gives the orders here.” Gold shoved a hand into Killian’s hair and tipped his face upwards. “This behaviour and our interaction this afternoon confirmed one thing, you are making no progress at all in controlling that disgusting, demanding mouth of yours. I have something to help you with that, but you will need to be naked for us to proceed further, Jones. Kindly remove your clothes, such that they are.”

Gold released his grip and Killian got shakily to his feet. He only had the trousers and his black boots to remove, It didn’t take long. In moments, he was naked, chest heaving, hard dick flush to his belly. And while Killian had been undressing, Gold had fetched something from one of his cabinets. As Killian straightened, Gold was standing in front of him, a ball gag dangling from his elegant fingers. 

Killian swallowed hard. “I don’t need that. I can be quiet.”

“I think we both know that you can’t,” Gold said as he lifted the gag to Killian’s lips. Killian opened his mouth obediently, breathing harder at the sour taste of the rubber. As Gold moved behind him to fasten the buckle, humming gently, he said, “And please do not worry, that I will miss hearing all your delightful moans of contrition. This will not mask them at all. In fact, as you are now unable to close your mouth, they will be all the more impossible for you to hide, dearie. You will also -“ Gold was back in front of Killian now, his face sparky with delight, “- be unable to swallow your own saliva.” Gold reached up and took hold of Killian’s face. “Something I sincerely hope you find utterly degrading.” Gold’s thumb gently pried at Killian’s bottom lip where it was stretched around the gag, until the drool that had pooled behind it spilled helplessly from his mouth. Killian whimpered at the humiliation.

Gold smiled. “I see it’s working already.”

Gold instructed Killian to bend over one end of the Chesterfield with the padded edge of it pressed close against this cock and his face resting against the cushioned seat. With his head down like this spit ran straight out of his gagged mouth constantly, making a mess all around his jaw. He made a hopeless attempt to suck it back into his mouth and Gold laughed at the gurgling noise. “Don’t worry,” he said lightly. “You’ll forget about that indignity in a moment, dearie.”

Gold laid the whip upon him, fast and hard and with no warning. Killian hadn’t even known he was holding the thing. The force of the stroke pressed his dick into the arm of the Chesterfield. The stripe of pain across his arse snatched his breath. He yelled through the gag.

Behind him he heard Gold make a soft sound of pleasure, then mutter, “Oh yes, Jones. This is truly what you need.” And then Gold hit him again. The second stroke was harder, again it felt for a moment, like he couldn’t breathe at all. This lash had crossed the first in places, making the doubled-up spots blaze extra hard.

And then the third stroke, and the third stroke was the hardest yet. The burn was so intense Killian panicked, sure he couldn’t take another. He was about to pull out of position when he felt a cool hand on the small of his back, not holding him down, just there. “Be brave,” said a soft quiet voice - and a voice Gold had never used on him before. “Be brave for me, Jones. You need this. You need control.”

Killian breathed hard, but stayed down and Gold, stepped back and hit him again; low on his buttocks, and though it still hurt, still burned, this time the pain was different and made him moan with pleasure. His dick, which had softened at the first burst of pain from the whip, stirred again. By the time Gold had hit him and fifth and a sixth time, he was fully hard, moaning at every stroke. “Oh yes,” he heard Gold mutter. “Oh, oh yes. I knew you’d make this good for me, Jones. Oh, but you should be grateful for that gag. Without it you would be counting each stroke and thanking me for it.” Gold’s voice was thick with arousal. “Perhaps next time.”

Killian's entire rear felt as it was on fire, and yet, he minded it less now. HIs dick was crushed up against the Chesterfield arm, leaking as fast as his gagged mouth. As Gold hit him for the tenth time, he felt tears well up and spill from his eyes. He pressed his face to his clasped hand and hook, and he wailed.

Two quick strokes later, when Gold tossed the whip aside, he knew what was coming. He knew from the soft panting and occasional moan how excited Gold was by whipping him. When Gold’s body pressed against his from behind, Killian gasped at the feel of Gold’s skin against his heated, over sensitised flesh. “I’m sorry, Jones,” Gold said, and his voice was ragged, his breathing fitful, “but I’m not going to be able to be able to be so considerate with you as last time. 

Killian yelped as Gold’s fingers shoved into him quickly, stretching him fast and rough, pushing a cursory amount of grease into him. But despite the carelessness, Killian moved himself back onto them, gasping with pleasure. He tried to speak. “Just fuck me,” was what he wanted to say, but the words came out a garbled mess around the slippery gag. But Gold responded anyway. Gold’s fingers were out of him and Gold’s dick slammed into him too fast and too quick. Killian sobbed into the gag. It hurt. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted Gold to control him, to punish him. He wanted whatever Gold wanted to do to him.

And even though the fucking was rough, brutal even, it still felt like a relief. Each thrust shoved Killian hard into the Chesterfield, head down, arse up, bent over and beaten and used. There was some pleasure there, laced with indignity and shame. Killian couldn’t do much except suffer it. And Gold was right about the effect of the gag, he was making terrible, desperate moans in time with each thrust, and had no possible chance to contain them. 

Gold came quickly and viciously, like he was just using Killian’s body as the most convenient way to get himself off. When he slipped free, Killian was a wailing sobbing mess, his face pressed to the sofa, in a puddle of his own tears and drool. His dick was twitching, but despite the friction of the Chesterfield arm and Gold’s relentless pounding, he had not climaxed. He still ached, could do nothing but ache and wail and lie there, sore and helpless. 

Gold placed his hands on Killian’s hips and guided him back onto his feet. Killian stood up, shaking. Gold turned him around and glanced briefly at Killian’s bright red, leaking dick; his tongue played behind his teeth at the sight of it. “Poor boy,” he said gently, reaching out and placing his palm flat on the head of it. Killian jerked into the touch, moaning and Gold drew his hand away and took something from his pocket.

“But I will not neglect you completely.” Gold’s hand went to Killian’s shoulder, trailed at the nape of Killian’s neck, then slid down his body. He was holding something. “Perhaps you remember this old friend.” Killian moaned into the gag as the plug slipped easily into him. He didn’t remember it jamming so hard against that darkly pleasurable spot inside him before. When he rolled his hips against it, his legs went to liquid.

Without another word, Gold reached up and unfastened the gag. Killian spluttered as the ball slid out of his mouth, panting a little with the relief. He stretched his aching jaw, was still stretching it, when Gold suddenly slapped him hard on the thigh. The strike took his breath just as easily as the whip had done. “What?” Killian said, not hiding his annoyance. “What was that for?”

“Good grief, Jones, do you want it back in? You will thank me for removing your gag.”

“Oh,” Killian sighed. “Thank you, Mr Gold.”

Gold raised his eyebrows.

“Thank you, sir.” Killian took a breath. “Although why I am thanking you for leaving me like this, I have no idea.”

Gold reached out and ran one finger up Killian’s wet dick. Killian hissed but did not draw away. “But I told you, Jones,” Gold said sweetly. “I told you I would leave you like this.”

Gold’s finger kept running up and down Killian’s dick, just lightly, just to tease. Killian was shivering. “I thought you might change your mind.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” Gold’s hand left Killian’s dick and slipped up his side.

“Because I’ve been… because I’ve been good? You said… You said I’d made that good for you.” Killian knew he sounded like a child now. His voice had come out like a whiny bleat. 

Gold laughed at this, and touched Killian’s cheek, his expression softened very slightly. “Ah, it is true that you have been quite delightful at points this evening. You become so beautifully compliant when I deny you like this. At least, some of the time. So perhaps…” Killian moaned as Gold’s thumb traced his bottom lip. “Yes. You may stay here. Stay the night with me, as a reward.”

“I can sleep here?” Killian was shocked by the offer.

“Yes.”

“I can sleep in your bed?”

Gold smiled slowly. “Ah, no.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Killian held Gold’s gaze as he pushed his tongue out, over Gold’s fingers. Gold sighed. “Good boy.” He was close to climax now. Killian was on the brink of tears, shaking with frustration and arousal, feeling almost deranged by it all. He was kneeling, chained by the neck in front of Gold, with his mouth open waiting for Gold to spill onto him. His tongue pushed out obscenely, desperately, as far it could go, as if for fear of missing a drop of Gold’s seed._

Killian had knelt down on all fours beside Gold’s bed, because Gold had told him to. He’d done it quickly, almost eagerly. It was amazing how this had felt almost normal and that sickened him a little. 

It turned him on to obey Gold’s orders, the thrilling prickle of shame he got from doing as he was told - for no reason other than the way it made his dick harden. But he also hated it. Hated every part of it. He hated Gold’s smug reaction to his complicity, hated the satisfied way Gold hummed to himself as he used his body, hated the endless fucking tricks and deals and bribes that always left him worse off. And most of all, he hated the way he hadn’t come for three days, hated the fact his dick was still hard and still leaking, jutting out obscenely between his legs like he was some unfortunate stud animal being displayed at a County Fair. 

Gold was putting a chain around Killian’s neck. This fact was turning him on so much he couldn’t speak. His arms were shaking under his own weight. The chain was just tight enough that he felt a pinch with every breath. 

The chain was secured in place by a brass padlock at his throat, and the spare end of it was connected to the post at the end of Gold’s bed. There was around two feet of slack. Barely enough for Killian to have his face this far from the ground and almost no freedom to move around at all. The restriction of it was making Killian burn.

Gold ran his fingers down the length of it and made that infuriating humming sound. “I’ll leave the this right here for you, Jones,” he said brightly, hanging the padlock key on a small nail that jutted from the bed post.”If at any point you decide you would prefer not be chained to my bed like a dog. Simply take the key, unlock the collar and leave.” He reached out and patted Killian’s cheek. “But unless you are leaving entirely, you stay on your chain, dog. I don’t want you thinking you can have the run of the place, jump up on the furniture or climb into my bed. I know you’re not a very well trained dog. _Yet_ … Say you understand, Jones.”

“I understand, Mr Gold,” Killian said, surprised he could speak at all.

Gold touched Killian’s throat where the chain lay upon it and Killian whimpered. But of course Gold would find a way to make it worse. He’d leave him like this all night, chained, shivering in the floor, and he’d make it even more demeaning by making Killian choose to do it - by leaving the key deliberately in his eye line as a constant reminder that he was here because of his own will.

Gold slapped Killian’s arse, not hard, but the burn from the whipping he’d had, meant it was enough to make him gasp. “Ah, cheer up, Jones,” he said, moving his hand across to trail his fingers over the base of the plug. “I don’t sleep late.” Killian moaned and Gold’s hand slipped down between Killian’s legs and found his aching dick; the touch there made Killian's body jolt so hard he almost strangled himself. Gold put his other hand gently on Killian’s flank to steady him. “Careful, dearie. I know you’re the most sexually disgusting creature anyone could ever imagine, but I assure you, my hand on you dick is not worth choking yourself for.”

“Fucking touch it properly,” Killian snarled. “Jerk me off. Make me come.”

Gold slapped his arse again. Harder this time. This was enough to make Killian yell with pain, tears spiked in his eyes. “Lose that temper and ask me properly.”

Killian took a breath, swallowed his anger and frustration as best he could. “Please, sir, please. You can’t leave me like this all night. Please, I’ll do anything.”

“You ridiculous creature, you must be aware, you’ll do ‘anything’ whether I make you come or not. You obey me so eagerly now. You rush to do it. It turns you on. That’s the rather laughable situation you have got yourself into. It’s been too easy, almost, to break you down to this.” Gold hand was moving on Killian’s cock as he spoke, quite gently, but it would probably be enough. _Gold’s breath would probably be enough_. Killian shivered. “Now here you are, and you want something from me, so desperately, but you have absolutely nothing you could give me in return. Nothing that I couldn’t simply take from you and have you thank me for the attention.” Gold sounded almost sad about it. 

Gold let go of Killian’s dick, ducked down underneath him and closed his mouth around it. Killian cried out at the heat of it, the delicious damp heat - it was so intense, it was almost like pain. He had never imagined, in any part of this, that he would ever feel Gold’s mouth around his dick. And Gold had taken the whole thing deep, in one swallow, his lips resting at the root, the entire shaft of him down Gold’s throat. 

Killian kept whining, overloaded with the feel if it. Gold would truly be the most exceptional cock sucker…, if he would just move. "Please," Killian whispered. "Please, sir, please." 

And then Gold did move. He slipped his lips right up Killian’s dick, in one steady, languorous movement and, of course, let the whole thing pop out of his mouth, as abruptly as he had taken it, humming sweetly. Then he darted up and kissed Killian’s shoulder, as Killian’s arms went weak at the elbows and his hips bucked with frustrated desire. 

“Goodnight, Jones,” Gold said, and left Killian like that - gasping, almost sobbing, cock wet and burning, as he went to snuff out the candles. 

*

There was some sleep. A very little plugged and with his cock and his arse both aching, the rest of him naked and cold on the dusty floor, his neck chained to the bed post and not even enough slack to turn himself over, but he had slept in unpleasant places before - if, perhaps, under less humiliating circumstances - and sleep did come to him. 

He was lost to the world when the voice over him said, “Wake up, Jones. Rouse yourself, you filthy dog.” And he opened his eyes, confused, to find Gold in front of him. Standing over Killian, naked; with his legs slightly apart and his own hard dick in his hand.

Killian swallowed at the sight. Gold’s clothing - his perfect, immaculate, outfits - were as much a part of their game as Killian going to his knees and begging. And yet here he was bare. His body was small, and quite clearly the body of an older man, but something about the sight of it filled Killian with awe. There was something powerful about that body, something that made Killian want to give it power over him. “M-Mr Gold?”

“I want you to watch this Jones. I want you to know just what you’re missing.” Gold drew his fist up his dick and hissed with pleasure. “Get up on your knees.”

“Mr Gold, I…“ Killian said, as he did as he was told, his voice trailing away. The chain pulled tighter at his throat as he raised himself, and the pinch made him gasp, made blood race to his dick.

Gold held his palm in front of Killian’s face. “Lick it,” he said. 

“Mr Gold?” Killian said again, not quite sure what was required. 

“No!” said Gold, and slapped Killian’s face, in a brisk, careless way and then held the flat palm in front if Killian again. “Lick it.”

Killian pressed out his tongue and slowly licked the palm, keeping his eyes on Gold’s. Gold smiled, then rubbed his wet palm over the head of his dick. His head went back at that and he moaned with pleasure. “What I want to show you, Jones,” Gold said, his voice catching a little from the sensations he was giving himself. “Is what you don’t get to do. What I’ve taken away from you. What you’ve let me take.” He let his hand form itself back into a fist, slid it down his shaft and he moaned again. 

Killian’s eyes were wide watching this show, watching Gold undo himself. He felt so aware of every part of this: the chain at his neck, his body aching from being made to sleep on the floor, his rear still covered in welts, the plug inside him, the way his dick just screamed to be touched. Touched the exact same way that…

…Gold was moving his hand faster. “You’re everything I ever hoped for, Jones,” he said, his voice cracking and breathy. “You’re a wild, vicious thing, but you respond so well to the right training. Look at you now, so broken and obedient. I simply don’t know what I could ask you to do that you would refuse me. Look at this,” he said, jerking his cock harder, “just look at you. You belong to me. You’re my property. Ask to come, Jones. Beg me.”

“No. Please don’t make me do this,” Killian said, his voice cracking, close to sobbing.

“Beg to come. Do it now.”

Killian shook his head. “No. I won’t do it. You won’t let me. I know you won’t.”

Gold used his free hand to lift up Killian’s chin. “I don’t know where this sudden defiance has come from Jones, after you spent last night being treated like an animal. But you will beg to come….” Gold was gasping frantically around the words of this speech. “And then, when I refuse you, you will thank me for my control. You will thank me for not letting you come. I will take that from you…In the end. I am a patient man…” Gold gasped. “And you, you will have to learn to be.”

Killian’s own hips were jerking in time to Gold’s hand on his cock. His legs were shaking. He was grinding himself against the plug and the feeling was almost enough for him to come without touching himself. Almost, but not quite. There were tears in his eyes now.

Gold slid four fingers into Killian’s mouth, yanking his chin down until his mouth was wide open. “Put your tongue out for me. I want to come on your tongue,” he breathed.

Killian shook his head. 

Gold’s voice went dark. “Unless you want to spend the day chained up here, you will do as you are told, right now.” And Killian didn’t doubt for a second Gold would do that to him, would enjoy it, would make him beg for it.

Killian held Gold’s gaze as he pushed his tongue out, over Gold’s fingers. Gold sighed. “Good boy.” He was close to climax now. Killian was on the brink of tears, shaking with frustration and arousal, feeling almost deranged by it all. He was kneeling, chained by the neck in front of Gold, with his mouth open waiting for Gold to spill onto him. His tongue pushed out obscenely, desperately, as far it could go, as if for fear of missing a drop of Gold’s seed. 

“I have something to tell you, Jones,” said Gold, his voice quivering. “Something I want to tell you as you watch me do this to myself. You exist only for my pleasure-”

Killian made a shameful whimpering noise.

“-What you want means nothing. This is all I’m going to use you for. Just a pretty thing to look at while I… Just a body to abuse…” Gold was right on his edge, grinding the words out through his teeth. “This feels so good, Jones. You don’t know what you’re missing…” Killian couldn’t hold back a broken sob. “You’re my property, and if I decide it, you’ll never come… ever again.” Killian wailed even harder, at this - at the exact moment Gold came himself, jetting over Killian’s waiting tongue. As Gold’s dick spasmed again and again, Killian squirmed under him and took and swallowed it all. 

Killian was still shaking from it as Gold reached over and unlocked that padlock at his throat. “Good boy, Jones, but that’s not quite all of it, is it?” And Gold reached back and slipped the plug out of Killian. He squirmed as he felt Gold’s release from the previous evening slip out after it. He felt it run down the backs of his thighs and splatter onto the floor. He shuddered at the sensation.

Gold was still leaning down over Killian’s shoulder, watching, "I thought so,” he said. “I think you’d better turn around, dearie.” And Gold smacked Killian’s bruised backside encouragingly. Killian yelped at this, but shuffled around so the mess on the floor was right in front of him. As he looked at it - his stomach flipped with horror. _Surely not?_

“You’ve made a mess there, Jones,” said Gold. “Lick it up.”

Killian’s breath went out of him. “Please. No.” He looked at the mess on the floor. Could there be anything - anything at all - more degrading that this? He felt like his guts were crumbling with the shame of it. 

_Unless…?_

Killian swallowed. “Or…If I do it. If I do it though,” he said, carefully, “will you… will you let me come?”

“Hmm,” Gold paused as if considering. “Perhaps, yes, Jones, perhaps I will… How about this. If you do it, Jones, I will let you come tonight. I will come to your bed. I will put you to your knees in front of me. I will allow you to stroke yourself to orgasm, whilst I tell you that you are worthless and disgusting. I will let you spill your seed on my boots and then you will lick them clean.”

“Really? Really?” Killian could barely believe it. Such an offer felt like the kindest most benevolent thing he could imagine.

“Oh yes. You can trust me, Jones. Will you take my deal?”

Killian nodded. He went to lower his face to the floor and Gold caught him sharply by the hair, dragging him back up. “Wait, Jones. This is a very generous offer I’ve made you, don’t you agree?”

“What? Yes, yes, Mr Gold.”

Gold backhanded Killian around the face, hard enough to make him yell out. “Sir!” Gold barked. “You will get that through your head, Jones! Yes, it is a very generous offer, sir.”

Killian was panting. “Yes. Yes. It is a very generous offer, sir.”

“Ask for it.”

“What? What, sir?”

“Ask to be allowed to lick that mess up. Do it now.” And Gold leant over and slapped Killian’s welted arse so hard he saw stars - his breath went for a second.

“Sir,” he said, he was shaking. “Sir, please sir, can I lick that from the floor, sir?”

“Lick what from the floor? What is that?” said Gold with a nasty smile. He was still holding Killian tightly by the hair, forcing him to look up.

“It’s your seed, sir. From when you fucked me last night. You fucked me and then you plugged me up and left me that way all night. And when you took the plug out, it came out of me. And now it’s on the floor and I want to lick it up for you, sir. Please.”

“Good boy, Jones,” Gold said, releasing his hair. And Killian lowered himself on his shaking arms and licked up the tiny puddle of sour seed. When it was done, he turned his head, to look up at Gold.

Gold rolled his shoulder. “I certainly need to bathe after seeing that, Jones,” he said, with a careless pat to Killian’s cheek. “You won’t be here when I return.” 

And, pulling his purple robe over his body, he was gone.

*  
“Hey,” Swan shouted across the site. “HEY!”

Killian looked up. It was tuesday. No matinee today. His plans had been to feed the cats then lock himself away in his caravan and sleep until evening. When he looked up in response to Swan’s shouts, it was like looking at someone from a previous life. He smiled as she broke into a trot, jogging over to where he stood just outside the cage. “i’ve not seen you for days.” She said as she halted in front of him. “Where have you been? And _what_ are you wearing?”

“What do you mean, darling?”

“I mean, can’t see the outline of your dick in those trousers. Are they even yours, bud?”

Killian was wearing his one and only pair of tweed Oxfords. He’d thought such a concession prudent, seeing as the state he was in now meant he got a throbbing erection from a sudden gust of wind, or, it would seem, Swan saying the word ‘dick’. “Just having a day off from being devastating. I hope you'll survive.”

“It’s a relief actually,” said Swan. “Fancy a walk. Regina has a headache so I’m free all day.

“Oh,” said Killian. “Well, darling.” And he looked at her like what she’d suggested was something far more deviant that a walk - perhaps it was, “this seems like an opportunity I ought to grab hold of while I can.”

*

The walk was nice. The countryside around the circus site was beautiful. They went over the back field, into the meadow beyond, up an exhausting hill and down into the woods that covered far other side. At first, and before the hill took their breath, they just teased each other, about their clothes, they were actually both wearing strikingly similar outfits. Swan’s cap was the only difference between them, and when she pointed this out Killian snatched it and ran off as fast as he could, shocked when she lapped him, ripped it from his fingers and sprinted away. 

Later, when he got it back from her and put it on his own head, she whistled at him and he bowed. “Really though,” she said, “why are you dressed like that, did he tell you to? The Ring Master”

“Why would he care?” Killian had already reverted to type somewhat by taking his shirt off and tying it around his waist. He was sucking on a straw.

“Why would he care?” Swan hooted. “Er, buddy, he comes to see Regina nearly every day and asks if, ‘something can’t be done about it, dearie’.” For the last part of her sentence she performed an execrable impersonation of Gold. 

“Does he?” Killian, of course, enjoyed this news of Gold’s attentions.

“You lower the tone, apparently. Give people the wrong idea. Best part was when Regina agreed, and said you dressed like trade. I think she was the only one in the room who didn’t know. Gold’s face that I was there when she said that.”

Killian laughed. “Poor darling Madame Mills, not knowing she’d hit on the terrible truth about me. You don’t think you should tell her?”

“Nah. I like fucking her too much,” Swan said as they emerged from the treeline of the woods, into a wide green valley, the sun was hot now. Swan dropped onto the grass and lay back with her hands behind her head. “Besides, you’re retired now, right?”

“Aye, for a while, love,” Killian said. He sat down next to her, and she reached up and took back her hat, using it to shade her face from the sun. “So,” he said, leaning back and propping himself with his arms, hook digging into the earth, “with you and Madame Mills, which one of you is…, you know?”

“The what?” said a muffled voice from under the hat. “The Ring Master?”

“Fuck off.” He swatted her shoulder.

Swan lifted the hat and looked up at him. “You know you have a massive bruise on the side of your face, don’t you? You are okay, right? Is it okay?”

“If you mean do I have enough make up to cover it up, then yes, I do.” Killian stretched out on the ground and rolled onto his side. He was surprised how much sitting on the ground had hurt his bruised backside. “Look, Swan, thanks for your concern but I climb into a cage with two lions 10 times a week. He’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s, you know… we’re both into it. It’s fine.”

“Good,” said Swan, pulling the hat back over her face. “If you say so, good.”

“He fucked me.” Killian said. He wanted to tell her. It was half boast and half a confession. “You know how I wouldn't do that, and you said, was I saving it, well I was and it turns out I was saving it for him. He fucked me for the first time and he whipped me and fucked me again last night and afterward he plugged me and he left me chained to the end of his bed all night and in the morning, he took the plug out of me and his spend dripped onto he floor and he made me lick it up. And I loved it. Every second.”

Swan’s voice came from under that hat again. “Don’t. You’re giving me ideas,” she said.

“Really,? That’s intriguing... But, anyway, darling, I don’t think we should be talking about people who aren’t here.” He leant closer over Swan, plucking the hat from her face. “I can think of better things we could be doing.” 

And he kissed her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Good girl. Now what I want you to do, darling, is try and make this lion here cross. As cross as you can.” He gestured Delilah to come nearer and she padded over. “I am going to put my only hand in her mouth, and if you can make her cross enough she bites me, I will give you ten guineas.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “And my hand.”_

Swan’s eyes had been closed. There was a small moment where she seemed confused, a small moment where she half returned the kiss, and then a much bigger moment she shoved Killian away from her with such force he was flipped onto his back and hit his head against the ground. 

By the time he opened his eyes, Swan was on her feet, standing over him, silhouetted against the bright sun and spitting mad. “What the fuck! Just what the fuck, Killian? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Swan, wait.” He lifted his hand to her, wary that her next move might be a swift running kick to his balls. But it wasn’t. 

She just stared at him, shaking her head. “Killian…?”

“Sorry,” he said, as earnestly as if he were explaining something to a child. “Sorry. It was a mistake. Sorry.”

Swan shook her head. “But aren’t you…?”

“Aren’t you, love?”

“It wouldn’t work even if we weren't. I’m not going to tie you to a tree and whip you,” she said. She was mocking him.

Killian gave a dramatic sigh. “I wasn't asking you to do that.”

“What then?" She clapped her palm to her chest and fluttered her eyelashes. "My, my, what on earth does the rakish, turnpike lion tamer want with an ordinary young lady like me?” 

“Sweet Jesus, do you have to? I hadn’t actually thought about it that much. I just thought I’d kiss you and see how that went. I’m sorry, okay. I thought that was… I thought that was what this was. I thought that was why you brought me out here.”

Swan rolled her eyes. “You thought…? Killian, the reason I brought you out here was to ask you if you were okay. If everything was okay. It was to ask you if Gold was fucking raping you. Which I did. I thought it better than enquiring about whether you were happy with Gold’s abuse in the mess tent over the stew!”

“I see,” Killian swallowed. Swan's concern made him feel a bit ill. “I can look after myself, you know.”

“I know,” said Swan. “You told me so. But don’t do that again, alright. Kiss me, I mean.”

“Aye, alright, Swan.” Killian reached up and nursed the back of his head. “I think I got the message.”

“Even if I wanted to,” she said, turning away and beginning to walk back towards the woods, “I’m not a fool. Gold would fucking flay me alive if I tried anything with you.”

“Hey, hey, hang on a minute,” Killian said as he got to his feet and trotted after her. “It is nothing to do with Gold, what I do.”

Swan turned around and looked at him. She put her fists on her hips and shook her head in disbelief. “You really do have no idea what you’ve got yourself into, do you?”

*

That night the show was no different to any other night. Killian was the penultimate act of the evening and while the stage crew, led by Swan, Mary and David, assembled Killian’s large pen in the centre of the ring, he entertained the audience with a few acrobatic moves and tricks with his whips. 

Although, he barely thought of his ropes tipped with leather crackers as whips anymore. Not real whips. Not like the gold whip that he thought about every night. That he dreamed about. Gold had said that next time he would be made to count each stroke and ask for more. He wanted that. Thought of it so often. He wanted to be made to beg for more, for harder strokes of Gold’s whip, while he was still gasping in pain.

Gold liked to see his pain. Was aroused by it. And the thought of that made Killian’s knees weak, even while it made him flush with shame.

When the pen was built, Mary ushered Ben the elephant into the ring, pulling the cats in their wheeled cage. Mary and Killian bolted the cage to the opening in the pen and Killian urged the lions down the ramp into place, and then Mary made a show of shaking Killian’s hand, before he leapt and shinned his way up the bars of the pen. Once he reached the top he pulled himself up into a handstand, on his single hand, (which got applause at all but the most lacklustre shows), then flipped right over and dropped into pen, landing hard on his feet, as Samson and Delilah roared and the entire audience gasped.

_He knew how to put on a show._

For the final part of his act, Killian always asked for a volunteer. There were two extremely beautiful young women in the front row - both in their early 20s and possibly sisters. One of them was holding the small piece of rope that David always gave to the women he asked on stage to surprise with the weight of his handcuffs. _Perhaps he should select the other._ But next to the two beautiful women, was a younger girl of about 10 - and it was the child whose eye Killian caught, and who he beckoned to. She looked surprised, but stood up - as the sister nearest to her stood too, frowning at Killian and gesturing as if to ask if he had meant to call on her instead. Laughing at her insistence she ought to be chosen, Killian shook is head and pointed at the little girl again. 

Looking quietly thrilled, the little girl approached the ring, an usher hurrying over to help her climb up. When she was close enough to bars of the pen, Killian leaned up against them and said to her, “What’s your name, sweet pea?”

“Alice,” said he little girl.

“Aye, Alice. Well, I have a job for you. Can you scream, Alice? And can you shout really loud?”

Alice looked over her shoulder at her sisters, then back at Killian. “I could maybe, mister.”

“And can you make a noise with this?” He handed her a tin cup. “You could rattle it on the bars, perhaps.”

Alice nodded. “Yes, mister.”

“Good girl. Now what I want you to do, darling, is try and make this lion here cross. As cross as you can.” He gestured Delilah to come nearer and she padded over. “I am going to put my only hand in her mouth, and if you can make her cross enough she bites me, I will give you ten guineas.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “And my hand.”

Alice stretched her eyes wide with sheer excitement. Killian had been doing this trick for years. He could always spot the biggest sadist in any audience, even if they looked quite unlikely. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Killian yelled. He didn’t pronounce to the audience much. It took too much lung power. Gold could do it. Gold was the only person in the show who regularly spoke to audience for a prolonged amount of time. It was a feat as spectacular as anything Killian managed in his act. “I have not performed this trick for over ten years. As you can see, I have already lost one hand to this beast’s appetite. But here, tonight, for your entertainment, I have finally decided I will risk the other.”

Once, when he had announced this, back in London, a woman in the audience had yelled out, “You’re a liar. I saw you do this in Madrid, three years ago.”

Delighted at this interjection, Killian had turned to her, his face a sweet smile, “Madam,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “I assure that is not the case, for the closest either of us have come to Spain is lifting our skirts for a musical hall matador in the alley behind the Palladium.” 

The audience had erupted with rapturous glee at such a scandalous remark. The audacity! To both label the woman a doxie and himself a molly! He’d never dare use a line like that at Kenzo’s. He missed London, but he enjoyed this audiences stricken faces as he announced, “And while I do that my young friend Alice here, will do her best to enrage the beast. Leroy, a drumroll?”

Here tonight, the suggestion that he was going to risk his only hand made the audience gasp as it always did. It was a beautiful piece of work, his closing flourish. So simple and so spectacular. The trick to it was that as he placed his forearm into Delilah’s mouth, he pressed his hook gently under her chin. This was the signal he had trained into her. It had taken years, but now, Delilah - dear faithful beast that she was - would ignore everything in the room but him if he pressed his hook there. 

Samson was shut away in the wheeled cage for this part of the act. Killian knew the trick would be more impressive with the male lion, but he had long given up trying to get this behaviour out of Samson. 

He’d seen Samson’s jaw clamp down on a depressing number of wax hands.

Outside the cage, Alice, encouraged by Killian nodding at her and smiling began shouting at Delilah. “You stupid lion! Bite him! Bite his hand off!” And she rattled her tin cup on the bars of the cage. Kids were always the best at this. Nothing like the spectacle a of sweet little girl in petticoats and flannels being encourage by a grown man, half naked and covered in glitter, to reveal how blood thirsty and feral she really was. 

“Bite it off!” Alice screamed. Like there was nothing she wanted so much in the world.

Killian was laughing at her, when the crashing noise took him by surprise...

He jolted around and saw, half in shock, that Gold had run across the ring and slammed his body into the barred wall of the pen, opposite the where Alice was. “Yes!” Gold yelled across the pen. “Bite it off, Delilah! You know we all want you to.” 

At the sight of him, Alice screamed. Shocked, Killian stared at Gold, and as he stared, he took his hook from Delilah’s throat…

…Gold’s face was full of rage staring at him. He couldn’t look away from it. And it was nothing but pure luck, that he happened to pull his hand from Delilah’s mouth to step towards him, just as her jaws snapped down.

*

Killian stormed into his caravan, still angry. Madame Mills had refunded Alice’s family the cost of their tickets, plus the ten guineas Killian had promised her. The two beautiful sisters had given Killian such looks as they escorted tearful Alice out of the Top. And Killian had been summoned to a meeting with Madame Mills the following morning, which was certainly going to cost him at least a weeks earnings and probably any dignity he hadn’t already handed to Gold.

He was livid. After the show Gold had been nowhere around to offer an explanation. All he'd said to Madame Mills was something about thinking the show needed it. Killian hadn’t stopped in his dressing room to take his make off, and he wiped his face quickly on a wash rag. 

He was no calmer when he heard the door open behind him. He spun around, already shouting, “Just what the fuck was that, Gold! What the hell were you doing. You-”

His voice dried in his mouth as Gold stared at him, posed impishly in the doorway. Just the sight of him and he began to fall apart. “We can talk about that later, Jones,” Gold said lightly. “We have some other business first, don’t we?”

Killian felt his breath quicken. “Fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Well don’t just stand there, come in.” He tossed the rag into his wash basin.

“You need to get that temper under control, dearie,” said Gold, tripping into the caravan, then turning to lock the door. 

As he did so, Killian saw the whip protruding from his right boot and his breath quickened. He so wanted to stay angry with Gold. To throw him out. But his lust for what only Gold could give him was taking control of his desires. “Just don’t do that again,” he said.

“The thing is, dearie,” said Gold, smiling, walking towards him, “when two people are engaged in a beautiful romantic love affair, such as the one we have, from time to time, one person is going to do something other dislikes. It’s important to forgive, wouldn’t you say? How about I apologise to you this way?”

“Mr Gold, I-“ And Killian almost couldn’t believe his eyes then as Gold slid to his knees in front of him, and planted a single kiss on Killian’s dick through the tight leather of his trousers. Killian moaned, totally helpless and astonishingly hard - head rolling back, fingers clutching at the edge of the wash stand behind him. 

Humming, Gold stood up elegantly and took hold of KIllian’s chin, righting his face so he was looking at him. “And how is your true master feeling this evening, Jones?” Gold said, as he played his fingers over Killian’s hopeless erection.

And the last of Killian’s anger drained away. He became, without willing it or wanting it, a pliable, docile thing under Gold’s gaze. “I want to come, sir. Will you let me come?” he whispered. That morning, chained up like a dog, felt so far away now and he wasn’t at all sure he would get what he needed. It was a need now - whatever sweet words Gold might pour in his ear to the contrary: that he could wait, or be brave, or content himself to suffer - Killian needed desperately to come. 

“Did I tell you that you could come tonight?” 

“Yes. You did.” Killian said, his voice wavering.

“Then why on earth would you doubt me. Now, get those terrible clothes off. Do you have a chair I can use in this hovel?” Gold looked around. “Ah, yes-” he said, pulling out the upright chair from under the small table and swivelling it around so it faced the floor space beside the bed. 

Killian’s leather breeches followed his boots onto the floor, as Gold sat elegantly in the chair; the tail of jacket spread behind him, white breeches spotless as ever, legs’s crossed. Killian didn’t need Gold to tell him he ought to kneel at his feet. 

Taking his place on the floor, Killian looked at the tall black boots Gold wore. They were so shiny they looked wet. Like everything Gold wore, they were very clean. And Killian was grateful for that. Gold had not - though Killian had thought he might - gone out of is way to walk here through every puddle and waste pile. Killian looked from the boots up to Gold’s face, pleased to see lust painted on it. 

Touching Killian’s chin, Gold said, “I should not have to keep asking you to remove those whorish rags you call clothes. From now on you will make it your business to ensure you are always naked when alone in my presence. Say you understand, Jones.”

“I understand, Mr Gold,” Killian said softly. The words caught a little. The idea made him light headed. Being naked while Gold was fully clothed made him feel so much lesser, so much an object for Gold’s use and pleasure. And he liked that. Had even grown to crave it.

“Do you remember,” Gold said lightly, as if this was a pleasant reminiscence, “the last time I was in here? What I did to you?”

“Yes, Mr Gold,” said Killian. His dick was inches from Gold’s boot. He would give anything to be allowed to rub against it, even for a few frustrating seconds.

Gold appeared to have other concerns. “Tell me. Tell me what I did.”

Killian shivered. “You put your whip between my legs.” He still thought about that afternoon all the time. He hadn’t worn those gold trouser since.

“Did you like it? Did you like what I did to you?”

Killian swallowed. “Yes.”

Gold opened his mouth a fraction, let his tongue slide around just inside his top lip. “You knew right then, didn’t you? You knew that I was quite correct and that you belonged to me.”

“Yes, sir.” Everything in the caravan felt slow and profound. Every word. Killian could hear his own heart banging in his ears. The music and bustle of the circus was faint and far away.

“And yet you fought it,” said Gold “You fight it still. Even while you burn to give in to me completely. If I did that same thing to you now, with my whip, between your thighs, do you think you’d come? You are so desperate to.”

“I nearly came when you did it then.” KIllian’s breath was heavy. “Sir.”

Gold smiled. “Oh, you can be a delight when you try, can’t you? If only you tried a little more often.” He slipped the whip from is boot and toyed with it. Killian couldn’t look away. “Do you like my whip. Do you enjoy it when I lay it upon you?”

“No. It hurts. It hurts a lot.”

Gold caught his breath. “Good. I can’t have you too eager for everything. My real pleasure is your displeasure,” he said, turning the gold whip over and over in his hands. “I enjoy hurting you, Jones. I enjoy your pain.”

“I’d noticed,” Killian said, shifting his hips.

Gold’s lips quirked. “Don’t get flippant.”

"I doubt you could whip me in here.” Killian glanced over his shoulder. Looking at it from this angle on the floor, his tiny caravan, his home, suddenly felt unfamiliar, the strangest place. “There’s not the room for your whip in here.”

Gold took hold of the tip of the whip with his free hand and held it horizontally. He used it like this, one hand at each end, to raise Killian’s chin, pressing it back a little into his throat. The pressure there at his vulnerable neck made Killian ache desperately. “Oh, dearie,” Gold said to Killian’s desperate, upturned face. “I wouldn’t dream of taking my pleasure in surroundings as insalubrious as this pit. If I wanted to whip you tonight, you would be in my rooms, bathed and stripped for me, oiled and chained down. An over-sized plug tormenting your rear end and something similar stopping up your disgusting mouth.” Killian groaned at the image. He desperately wanted to be that creature. “In my room I could display you like that as an object merely to be hurt for my pleasure. But not in here. This dingy place, Jones, is where you get to come.”

Even though he was kneeling, Killian’s legs almost went from under him, as he let his head roll back, away from the whip pushing at his throat, and he moaned.

“But first, Jones, we were talking about my first visit to your little home. What did I tell you that you would do? I hope you remember.” Gold lowered the whip and slipped it back into his boot. 

Killian could remember every detail of the that encounter. Every word. Before Gold had taken away his right to touch his dick at night, he had relived it many times, clasping at his sheets and pulsing in his own hand. He stared up at Gold’s face. 

“Well?” said Gold. “Do you remember?”

“Yes, sir,” Killian whispered. “You said I would kneel in front of you and beg for your control.”

Gold quirked a smiled at Killian down on the floor below him. “Anything else?”

“You said I would kiss your boot.” Killian whispered, and he didn’t wait to be told - he wanted to make all of Gold’s predictions come true. He dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss to the toe of Gold’s boot. It felt so good. A tiny moan escaped his lips and the jolt of pleasure through his body was almost like a tiny orgasm. “Sir,” he whispered to the leather at his mouth.

“Good boy, Jones,” Gold said and his voice was breathy. “How are you to be allowed to come?”

“Please sir, you said I could come onto your boots and lick them clean.”

“I did indeed. So, Jones, you may stroke yourself now and make yourself come. You will lower your gaze, you will not look at me, you will not speak except to ask permission to complete. Say you understand, Jones.

Killian gasped, and he almost came unbidden at the strictness of the directive. But he swallowed hard and managed. “I understand, sir.”

Gold nodded, and Killian put his head down and wrapped his hand around his dick. The relief at his own familiar touch was so profound he felt tears prickle his eyes. He moved his fist dry a couple of times, then rubbed his flat palm over the leaking head. 

Above him Gold made a soft’ oh’ and, at that, Killian wanted desperately to up look at him. To show Gold his desire stained face, to see the way Gold looked at him, when he was like this, kneeling before him, degraded and aroused. Touching himself and desperate.

Above Killian, Gold said softly. “This is what you are, Jones. All you are. You were made for this. I did tell you. You were made to be my property.”

Killian shivered, moved his hand faster and gripped tighter. He was so, so close already. The sensation he could feel building up was almost frightening. Suddenly he was almost scared of this need he had been fighting with for days. It felt like it was going to rip him in two.

“You need this Jones. What are you without me? Just a disgusting libidinous creature, oozing filth and wantoness. You need my control, don’t you? You may answer me. Tell me how much you need to be controlled.”

“I, oh-“ Killian could barely speak, was right on his edge. “I do, sir. I need you. I need you to… Uh-. Oh Jesus Christ. Please…“ And that was all it took. Killian managed to say, “Sir-can-I-come?” But he was already spilling - and spilling everywhere - before Gold could reply…

…For a few moments, Killian didn’t even know where he was. There were no words for how it had felt, like lightening, like being torn apart, so intense it was excruciating… And then, when he came back to himself, all he saw was a black boot, outstretched in front of his face, splattered with his seed.

There was no command. It wasn’t needed. Killian screwed up his pride and extended his tongue. Gingerly he lapped at one small smear on the leather. It tasted sour and strange. He was probably as used to the taste of semen as any man could be, but the leather beneath it gave it an odd taint. And the act itself, this demeaning, obscene act made him burn. It was harder than any other humiliating performance Gold had demanded from him because he didn’t have his own arousal to cushion him. He had just come. His cock was limp between his legs. So now, he was licking his semen from these boots, not because his dick demanded it, but merely because Gold did.

But it was enough, somehow. And he found his pace and let his tongue glide over the leather, finding every drop of himself, as Gold watched him, breathing heavily and truly gasping when he got a good view of Killian’s tongue. Twice Killian stopped to pull back a little, look Gold in the eye and lick his lips, and each time he was rewarded with a moan of desire.

By the time it was done, Killian’s dick was stirring again and he could see the outline of Gold’s erection. He wasn’t sure which part of his body Gold might choose to thrust himself into. But all Killian hoped was that whatever part of him Gold demanded his pleasure from, he did it roughly, mercilessly and with no care for Killian’s comfort or desires.

He sat back on his heels and looked up at Gold, knowing how he looked, with his lips swollen and smears of come on his face.

Gold stared at him. “You’re very beautiful, Jones,” he said softly. 

“I-. T-thank you, sir.” Killian stammered. He hadn’t expected that.

“Oh, yes.” Gold sighed. “A tragedy, really, that it didn’t work out between us.”

Those words hit Killian like iron. And he remembered Gold’s anger during the show. All but forgotten until now. Gold looked angry now. “W-what? Mr Gold?”

Gold stood up, taking a moment to adjust his white breeches. Then he bent over, so his lips were at Killian’s ear, his fingers on Killian’s cheek. “I know what you did this afternoon. Don’t think for a second that you can get away with something like that. If you were looking for a way to end this, you found it. Goodbye, Jones.”

And he turned away. And he left.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Killian shrugged his shoulders. “We were fucking, we are now not fucking. Kissing you was… I don’t know, it broke a rule or something, I didn’t exactly know what the rules are. Were. But I knew that wasn’t okay. I knew he wouldn’t be happy about it. And I probably did it, Swan, I’m sorry, I probably did it because I wanted to upset him as much as anything. I suppose, I wanted him to find out. I like it when he’s angry with me. But I never thought he’d… I never thought this would be how it would be… But it is.”_

“So, Mr Gold took it upon himself to perform that ludicrous stunt, and you have no idea why?”

Killian sat on the day bed in Madame Mills’s tent as she prowled around. She didn’t seem as angry as he’d expected. Or perhaps it was merely that he didn’t care as much about her mood as he’d thought he might.

Killian shrugged. “No idea at all, ma’am. Perhaps he was feeling unwell. He can be,” Killian paused. “He can be eccentric.”

Madame Mills sighed. She stopped pacing and stood still in the middle of a circular Chinese rug, crossing her arms. “Everyone here is an eccentric. Mr Jones, and you must understand that Mr Gold is very important to this operation. He is the longest serving member of staff, almost an institution in himself. If there is an issue here, the issue will not be Mr Gold. Do you understand me?”

Killian looked at her. He wondered, for a distracted moment if she might actually be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Wondered then also, if she was talking about the incident in the show, or something else. He nodded. “I see.”

“When I bought your contract, I did all the required checks,” she said, as if reminiscing about a shared experience. “You must be aware. I’m sure it is not the first time this has come up for you. I asked the Menagerie specifically about your general conduct, if there were any issues, anything I should know.”

Killian swallowed. He didn’t like where this was going. Had Gold, in his rage told her about his part in Swan’s operations?

Madame Mills crosses the rug towards him until she was very close. He looked up at her and she put one hand on the side of his jaw. She stroked it. “Are you a catamite, Mr Jones?”

Madame Mills was wearing a black dress with a high neck, long sleeves and a skirt that brushed the ground. And yet there was an erotic energy about her. Killian felt like it was pinning him to his seat. _Dear god, how did Swan cope with this every night?_ “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m… Yes.” The words caught in his throat a little. To speak like this, as if last night hadn’t ended the way it had. But how to explain that now?

“You are the beloved of Mr Gold?”

KIllian sighed. “Must we talk about it in these archaic terms?”

“Oh, how you have me talk about it? Ask if Mr Gold has been buggering you? Is that what you prefer?” Madame Mills wrinkled her nose.

Killian blinked. He was suddenly close to tipping over into tears. He swallowed hard and hoped Madame Mills wouldn’t notice. “He was. It’s over now. You don’t have to concern yourself.”

“Not concern myself?” said Madame Mills, straightening up and turning away. “Mr Gold’s happiness is very important. Please keep in mind that The Flying Monkeys will not be here forever. And your beasts have a certain amount of spectacle, Mr Jones.” She was walking to the curtained doorway to her bedroom. As she reached it she turned. “Wait there one second,” she said as she slipped through the curtain. It was properly closed today. Killian couldn’t see into her bedroom.

When Madame Mills appeared again, swishing the curtain out of her way and flicking it closed behind her, she was holding something. 

She walked over to Killian and held it out to him. It was a bottle. “This is for you. A gift.” As Killian took it, Madame Mills said, “What you must understand is that if you keep Mr Gold happy and you keep me very happy. Whatever the problem is, Mr Jones, I would like you to fix it. He likes this.” She nodded to the bottle.

Killian looked at what Madame Mills had given him. It was a bottle of oil. He could tell from one glance that it was the most expensive bottle of oil he had ever held in his hands. 

*

When Killian returned to his caravan, Swan was sitting at his table. “Morning,” she said brightly. And he stopped on the threshold, surprised to see her - not even sure how she had managed to get into his caravan. Her presence did, however, save him the trouble of scouring the site for her.

“I want to talk to you,” he said, as he turned and closed the door.

“Yeah. Thought you might.” Swan made a face that might have been meant as an apology. “It’s really not what you think.”

There was only one chair in the caravan, and Swan was sitting on it, so Killian leant up against the wall opposite her and crossed his arms. “You told him.”

Swan made a face. She squirmed. “I didn’t exactly… He just has ways of asking questions.”

Killian raised and eyebrow and nodded incredulously. “Does he? And do you have ways of answering questions?” He was still holding the bottle of oil. _What use was this, now?_

Swan bit her lip. “Killian, Gold comes and asks me about you all the time. He saw us together one day, worked out we were friends. After that he started dropping by when Regina wasn’t around and asking me about you. Had I seen you? How you were? It seemed creepy to me. A little too much, but that’s how he is. I guess you know that. I was always careful. I never had much to tell him anyway. But yesterday before the show he…” Swan looked down at her hands, moving on the table. “He just knew right away something had happened. In the end, I had to tell him because it seemed like he thought we’d done more than we had. And it wasn’t anything really. Was it? You kissed me for a second. It wasn’t anything?.”

“No,” said Killian. “It wasn’t.”

“I didn’t realise he’d do, you know, what he did, buddy. Are you okay? That was insane. I was backstage - did you know David fainted? He went down like a 200 year old oak tree, right on the shoulder that’s already messed up. He might not be in the show tonight. Because of swooning. Over you.” she paused, thoughtful. “Would Delilah really have bitten your hand off? It really looked like it.”

Killian smiled. “Oh yes,” he nodded. “She really would’ve.” He was almost proud of her for it. _Dear Delilah, she might act like he was her master, but really, that was only the case while she agreed to it._

“Sorry, Killian.” Swan shook her head. “I really am sorry. I never mean to tell him anything. But the way he asks questions, sometimes, it’s like he already knows.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” said Killian. “None of it matters. The thing with Gold and I, it isn’t a thing anymore. It’s finished. You can kiss me as much as you want now. No need for you to resist me anymore.”

Swan laughed. A sudden, bright nervous laugh. “What do you mean?”

Killian shrugged his shoulders. “We were fucking, we are now not fucking. Kissing you was… I don’t know, it broke a rule or something, I didn’t exactly know what the rules are. Were. But I knew that wasn’t okay. I knew he wouldn’t be happy about it. And I probably did it, Swan, I’m sorry, I probably did it because I wanted to upset him as much as anything. I suppose, I wanted him to find out. I like it when he’s angry with me. But I never thought he’d… I never thought this would be how it would be… But it is.”

Swan stared at him. “Killian,” she said. “Killian, are you crying?”

*

The circus seemed darker now, lonelier. He couldn’t sleep at night. He lay awake in his little cot and thought about Gold. About the things Gold did. About how intricately Gold had seduced him, known just what to give him… And who else could ever give him that? Now it was gone.

He didn’t touch his dick. the one time he tried, it made him cry for what he’d lost.

During the daytimes, he lay in the cage with his cats, and slept, and sometimes dreamed of them eating him.

He managed this for two days, in the end. Of course he had known it couldn’t last. Just hadn’t known when he would break. Didn’t know how proud he would turn out to be. How long he would wait. Turned out to be two days. 

Two days before he went to beg.

It was late. After the show. It seemed the best time. Like before. The last time he had gone to Gold’s rooms uninvited it had been one of the best nights of his life. He wasn’t even sure when he had begun thinking that way about what had happened between them, but he was sure it was true. He wore the snakeskin trousers again, because maybe they were lucky. Maybe this night would be this night Gold cut them away from him with that knife. He thought about that knife often. Perhaps if he persuaded Gold to continue their arrangements he could ask him to hold that knife to his throat one night. To fuck him and hurt him while he shook with fear.

By the time he parted the curtains into Gold’s room, his heart was racing.

Gold was sitting on the Chesterfield with a glass in his hand. He was wearing his purple robe. He was not reading a book, as he had been before. He was just sitting there, gazing down . As Killian walked in, he looked up, and before Killian could speak, Gold held up a hand. “I have nothing to say to you, Mr Jones.”

_Mister Jones._

Killian stopped just inside the curtain. “I have something to say to you.”

“I don’t wish to hear anything from you,” Gold said as he looked away, looked back down at the floor.

Killian took hold of the fastenings of he trousers, opened them and began to undress himself. “Then perhaps you would like to look at something.”

Gold raised his head, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Keep your fucking clothes on.”

“I’m only doing what you told me to do.” Killian shoved down his trousers and kicked them off with his boots. He was breathing heavily. It still turned him on, to strip himself in front of Gold.

Although he was trying to hide it, Killian saw Gold’s breath catching too. “You stupid boy,” Gold said quietly. “That hardly applies now. Get dressed.”

“I don’t see how. You knew about what I’d done when you told me I ought to always present myself before you naked.” Killian raised his arms and placed his hand and hook behind his head, displaying his body. This had to work. It just had to.

Bristling with a mixture of lust and anger, Gold stood up. “So I did.” His voice was low and nasty. “Wasn’t that kind of me, Mr Jones? I played the part for you one last time. I thought I’d give you something nice to remember. Allow you to kneel before me and befoul my boots with your disgusting desires. Even knowing what I knew. Did I make it good for you?”

Killian took a breath. “You made it wonderful for me, sir.”

“You don’t have the right to call me that. You will call me Mr Gold.”

“Of course,” Killian began to move slowly into the room, naked; using every trick he knew to make himself look more appealing. “Whatever you say. Mr Gold.”

“Don’t do this, Mr Jones.” Gold shook his head. “You won’t get what you want this way.”

Killian’s dick was half hard. And every step he took towards Gold seemed to make him harder. “What if I begged?” he said softly, “I know you like to hear me beg. What if I begged until I had no voice left and my knees were bleeding. What if I begged all night, sir?”

“I have told you, you will call me, Mr Gold.” Gold’s voice was the most unsure Killian had ever heard it.

“Of course.” Killian was near enough now to see it, Gold was panting. “I’ll do whatever you ask. Would you like that? Whatever you ask?”

“Whatever I ask except leave when you’re told. You never quite grasped that one, did you?” Gold narrowed his eyes. “Oh you are not fooling me here, Mr Jones. You think you can take charge of this situation. You cannot. You will not. _Oh_ -“ And Gold lost his voice as Killian moved close enough to feel Gold’s breath on his skin and then, slowly, sank to his knees. 

Killian looked up at Gold. “May I kiss your boot, sir.” Both of them were breathing hard now.

“No,” said Gold tightly, setting his jaw and swallowing his heavy breath. “You may not.”

“I’ll do anything,” Killian said and then licked his lips. Slowly.

He could see Gold fighting arousal, just Killian had done himself when they first met. “I know you will you filthy creature,” Gold managed. “It disgusts me.”

“Do you have an erection, Mr Gold? Put it in my mouth. Make me take it. I’ll take it however you want me to. Would you like it if I was sobbing, begging you not to? I know that turns you on. Would you like it to be rape, Mr Gold?”

“Why you-“ Gold raised a hand and slapped Killian’s face. Hard enough that Killian yelled in pain as his head spun to the right.

But Killian recovered himself quickly enough to see the passion light in Gold’s eyes. “Do that again,” he breathed. He wanted it so much it almost came out like a snarl. “Please.”

Gold wiped his hand down the front of his robe as if he had touched something unpleasant. “I will not. That was a mistake. I will not touch you again, Mr Jones. I will never touch you again. Get out.”

“Please, if you will not let me kiss your boot, let me kiss the ground you walk on, sir… Mr Gold.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He lowered himself to the floor and kissed the rug between Gold’s feet. 

He stayed there for a moment, his lips pressed to the ground and listened to Gold’s heavy breathing until he managed, “Get up.”

Killian raised himself again and sat back on his knees. Gold was shaking. “Or what if you fucked me?” Killian said. “What if you just fucked me? What if I let use me. Just have me. You don’t have to say anything to me or do anything. Nothing for me. Just fuck me. Just use me like a hole. Please, Mr Gold. Just that. Nothing but that. Just take your pleasure from my body.”

Gold looked down at him. His lips quirked. “Just fuck you? Like this? Cold? From nothing? You’re an idiot, Mr Jones. You’ll damage yourself.”

“I’m prepared. I’m ready for you.” He didn’t want to dare think it yet, but here it was, here was hope. “Where would you have me?”

Gold swallowed. “Fine. Over the arm of the Chesterfield. And there will be no preparation. You understand that, don’t you.”

“Yes, Mr Gold,” Killian said as he stood and did as he had been bid, heart banging now.

Gold moved behind Killian, and he swallowed as he felt Gold unfastening his trousers. A single finger touched Killian’s hole. “Oh,” he moaned, jerking back onto it. “Please, please.”

Gold made a soft chuckling sound behind him as his finger slipped in. “Violet oil? I like violet oil a great deal. You think of everything don’t you, Mr Jones?” For the first time, Gold’s voice sounded soft. Almost loving. And then he removed his finger and shoved his dick in Killian so fast and so hard he almost tipped him right over the arm of the sofa.

Killian screamed. It hurt. 

He’d tried to prepare himself for this outcome as best he could. It hadn’t been easy to reach, or to be sure how thorough he needed to be. As Gold thrust in again, he realised he had done nothing like enough. Killian bit his bottom lip and tried not to scream again.

“This is all you’re good for now, you fucking filth,” Gold snarled as he pulled back and slammed in again, harder. And then again. Each thrust was knocking the breath right out of Killian. And it still hurt. It hurt even more as it went on, like he was being ripped to pieces by Gold’s dick. It was nothing but pain. And when Killian lost control of his resolve and cried out, “Not so… Please. Just give me time to… It’s too much, please!”, Gold growled and got rougher. 

“You will not speak, Mr Jones,” Gold managed, almost unable to get the words out. “You asked for this and now you will just take it.”

Gold’s fingers dug into Killian’s hips, wrenching him backwards to stop him shifting to make it any easier; knowing how much Killian was struggling to bear this didn’t change his pace one bit. He just rammed into Killian, on and on, as if relishing the brutality of taking him like this. Not ready, under-prepared and desperate.

Gold was approaching his climax. So rough and cruel now Killian started to weep from the pain - messily, just snivelling into the worn leather of the Chesterfield. He hadn’t thought it would be so vicious as this. At the sound of his wails, Gold growled again, “Oh yes, yes, Mr Jones. Let this be your punishment. Know that this is all you get now. All you deserve. No pretty words. No teasing and caressing. Just being fucked. Like an animal, like a thing. You’re just a hole, Mr Jones. How you feel right now is-. Uh.” And Gold came, jerking hard and spilling roughly into Killian’s sobbing, broken body.

After a moment, Gold pulled himself free of Killian with a grunt, then paused as Killian felt him adjusting his clothes. Killian just shivered, frozen in place. “Get out now, Mr Jones,” Gold said, slapping Killian’s rear, briskly.

Carefully Killian stood up. It was going to be all he could do not to crawl out of the room. He held the arm of the Chesterfield with white knuckles, gathering himself.

“I told you to go,” Gold said. He was at a drinks cabinet, refreshing his glass and didn’t look round.

“Can I come back?”

At that, Gold did look over. “You want me to do that to you again?”

“I want you to do whatever you want.” Killian rolled his hips gingerly. 

“If you wish,” said Gold. Coming back over with his glass and another object in is hand. When he was close enough he reached out and touched Killian on his bare waist. “Come tomorrow.”

Killian almost broke with relief. “Thank you, thank you, Mr Gold.”

“It will be the same as tonight. No sweet talk. Just fucking. I will not ready you. Come better prepared for me. Use this.” Gold held out the object he had taken from the cabinet. It was the plug he’d used before. Of course it was.

Killian took it, “Thank you, Mr Gold.”

“Now go,” Gold said, stepping back. And Killian turned and began the tricky task of crossing the room without wincing. As he reached the curtained doorway, he bent down awkwardly to pick up his clothes, Gold said, “Why are you doing this, Mr Jones?”

Killian stood, his arms full of snakeskin. “I’m hoping I might win you back, Mr Gold.”

And Gold smiled, but he said, “You’re an idiot, Jones.”

_Jones._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Gold slid a finger inside Killian and Killian responded with a moan. “I know you did it to enrage me,” Gold said. “You are so very base and obvious.” Gold added a second finger and what he was doing inside Killian made him start to writhe. “I had to teach you, Jones, that you do not control me. You do not go out of your way to provoke me to punishment. I will punish you as I require, for my pleasure.”_

It got easier. 

That first time turned out to be the worst. The plug helped. And he got a routine and that helped a little more. The plug had to go in during the interval of the evening show. That was straightforward, and no worse in terms of distraction than things Gold had forced him to do before. He didn’t exactly get used to it being there, it was too big for that, but he could manage. He was already dealing with two lions, this was hardly going to ruin his life.

Gold must have known. Gold, as he strutted about the ring and introduced him, called him - without a trace of sarcasm - The Fabulous Mr Killian Jones, as he did every night, knew what was inside him; knew what he was willing to do to himself in order to be allowed in his presence later that evening. 

The late nights in Gold’s room were punishing. And familiar. Killian would strip and drape himself over the arm of the Chesterfield. Gold would barely speak to him, regard him vaguely, as if amused he was here again, before strolling over, carelessly removing the plug and shoving himself in Killian with a grunt.

It was less brutal now than that first time, or maybe he had got used to the brutality. But he barely needed to beg, or scrabble for an angle where Gold’s dick didn’t seem to rip him in two. The way Gold fucked him never made him come. Gold did not, now, lavish attention on him, find angles and movements to make him buck with need. Gold seemed to spare little attention even for the sounds Killian made. Whether he moaned, or yelled out, or sobbed, nothing made any difference. Gold fucked him as he felt inclined, finished and went to his bed, expecting Killian to remove himself without being told. When Gold had offered to use Killian as nothing but a hole for his dick, it had not been an empty promise.

Despite the drudgery or it, the sadness, all the misery that what they’d had - the beautiful, vibrant incredible thing they’d had - was gone forever after one mistake, being used like this, as the lowest thing he could be, made Killian half sick with arousal.

This went on for nine days. And then, one evening, as Gold withdrew himself, letting his spend trickle down Killian’s thighs, he said, “Fine, Jones. I am done with this.”

Killian bristled. Every part of him tense. He braced, in that moment, for almost anything, but expecting some kind of final rejection. Gingerly, he looked around at Gold’s unreadable face. “Sir?”

Gold narrowed his eyes.

“Mr Gold?”

At that, Gold gave a small nod, “Jones, you have convinced me. I never thought you would, but, perhaps I underestimated you.” Gold stroked one of Killian’s buttocks with an idle hand. It was the first time Gold had caressed him like this since that night in his caravan. He wanted it so much, it was everything he had not to slide back into it.

“What?” said Killian carefully, shivering at the casual touch. “What have I convinced you of?”

“That you are fully contrite,” Gold said, his hand slipped down over Killian’s rear and cupped it, a thumb moving- teasing - near his slick hole. “That I was rash, in my anger to dispose of you. That you are willing to make amends for your delinquency.” Gold’s voice was the sweetest and pleasantest Killian had ever heard it.

“Yes,” he said, softly, hardly daring, still expecting a trick, a trap. “Yes I am, Mr Gold. I am.”

Gold slid a finger inside Killian and Killian responded with a moan. “I know you did it to enrage me,” Gold said. “You are so very base and obvious.” Gold added a second finger and what he was doing inside Killian made him start to writhe. “I had to teach you, Jones, that you do not control me. You do not go out of your way to provoke me to punishment. I will punish you as I require, for my pleasure.” 

Those words, plus the touch he’d ached for so long, made Killian burn. “Y-yes, sir. Mr Gold.”

Gold moved his hand inside Killian again, found a particularly satisfying sensation, and Killian cried out and arched, his upper body lifting from the seat of the Chesterfield. Gold made a satisfied humming noise. “Nevertheless,” said Gold, continuing to stroke Killian in a way that was now taking his breath and making stars dance before his eyes, “You need to be punished now. Not for what you did but for your attempt to control me. What would you suggest would be an appropriate punishment?”

Gold had to leave quite a long pause for Killian to realise he ought to respond. “Sir?” he panted. “Mr Gold? I don’t know. Please do whatever you wish to me.”

“Oh, I will, Jones. I have and I do and I will continue to do so. But-“ And he found another way to twist his fingers that made tears prick at Killian’s eyes, “-as you are so keen to manipulate me, I would care for your suggestions.”

Killian swallowed hard and tried to find a way to block out what Gold was doing to him. There was only one possible answer. Only one thing that was worse than what Gold had already done to him. “Whip me?” he said quietly. “Whip me, Mr Gold.”

“You think you deserve that? Such attention.” Killian could hear the sly smile in Gold’s voice. This had pleased him. _Was there anything Gold enjoyed so much as the whip?_

“I deserve nothing. Nothing at all. Whip me anyway, Mr G-gold…” said Killian, ending with a gasp as Gold pulled his hand away.

Gold leaned forward over Killian, draping his whole body over his back, caging him with his arms. Killian groaned at the sensation, the weight of him. Gold’s lips were at Killian’s ear, “And for what should I whip you, Jones?”

“F-for kissing Swan,” he said, feeling ashamed of it. He hadn’t before, but now he did. The shame at having done something so stupid, to have taken such a risk, to have almost lost so much.

“Not quite,” whispered Gold and he licked over Killian’s ear, bit at the tip of it.

Killian was panting. “For, for, for trying to control you, Mr Gold.”

“Oh yes,” the breath hissed into Killian’s ear. “Yes, indeed. A terrible transgression, Jones. A terrible, terrible transgression.”

“I am sorry, Mr Gold,” Killian said. He could felt Gold’s dick against him, stirring to hardness. 

“I know you are, Jones. And I, as your master, will allow you to submit to correction. Shall I fetch the whip?”

Killian turned his head and looked at Gold over his shoulder. “Please, Mr Gold, have me fetch it.”

“Oh, Jones.” With a satisfied chuckle, Gold lifted himself off Killian’s body. “If you wish. It’s by the bed,” then added, as Killian raised himself and turned, “and you will crawl for me.”

Killian shuddered and got onto his knees, then pitched his weight onto his hand and his hook. He crawled to the bed, moving his body in a way he hoped looked appealing, dipping is spine, swinging his hips and slinking. He took the whip and placed it in his mouth and turned, crawled back to Gold. And all the time, though it shamed him to do such a thing - to crawl across the room with the implement Gold was going to use to beat him in his mouth - he still kept his eyes on Gold’s, and he saw such raging lust begin to ignite there.

Gold had Killian stand at the end of his four poster bed, arms stretched above his head, wrists attached to each corner with leather straps. As he finished tightening them, he pressed himself close behind Killian and caressed his cheek. “You will take forty, Jones. You will count each stroke and thank me for it. Say you understand.”

“I understand, Mr Gold.”

And without another moment’s pause, Gold stepped back and struck Killian’s arse with the whip. He’d half forgotten how much it hurt. He huffed out his breath, shook for a moment in the straps that held him up, then said carefully, “One. Thank you, Mr Gold.”

And very softly, he heard Gold say, “Oh, Jones.”

The second and third strokes were quick and hard, and he managed the words each time, hoping for that sweet moment he’d felt before when it stopped hurting so intensely and became a twisted kind of pleasure.

Gold hit him a forth time, a little lower. “Four,” Killian said, “Thank you, Mr Gold.” And that stroke carried with it a promise of something sweeter. He counted out a fifth and a sixth. It still hurt, viciously. Tears were coming already and he could hear Gold panting. Two more and it all became a blur. The agony was constant, the blows more like impact than pain. The entire back of his body seemed to throb and burn from his ankles to his scalp. And he could do nothing but take it.

Gold hit him again. “N-nine,” Killian choked out.

“You will thank me, Jones. Or take that stroke again.” Gold’s own voice was a gasp.

Killian screwed his eyes shut. “Thank you,” he said, half a whine. “Mr Gold.”

They reached twelve, equivalent to the beating he’d taken before, and then on as Killian gasped out thirteen and fourteen, starting to lose himself in waves of pleasure. His dick was so hard now, he’d barely lost his erection through the whipping, but now it was more tight and needy than it had been when he’d crawled.

After the eighteenth stroke, Gold dropped the whip and moved close to Killian, rubbing himself against Killian’s back, Gold’s own hard dick pressing firmly at his welted arse.

“Oh. Jones,” Gold was moaning, voice cracking and breaking. Killian had not heard him so given over to lust before. “You enflame me, you filthy creature. I want you so. It’s your fault that I do this. You make me do this to you. Make me take you this way. I will have you or I will destroy you, Jones. You’re such filth. Such wanton, beautiful filth. You must belong to me and only me.”

Killian couldn’t see Gold at all, but he’d had a sense of him moving, of him stepping back to reposition occasionally, of his arm, pulling back - it hadn’t been particularly important - but now he noticed Gold taking a larger step back and something made him go tense. 

“You will scream for me now, Jones,” Gold said, and smashed the whip into Killian.

Killian yelled out, jerking in his restraints. The whip had hit him, this time, on his thighs. It hurt more on the hard muscle and Gold had hit him harder than before. It was too much. There were tears in his eyes as he spluttered, “Nineteen. Thank you, Mr Gold.”

And he was never, never, going to make it to forty. He made it through two more hard blows to the backs of his thighs, before he moaned out, “Please sir, Mr Gold. I can’t. Please stop.”

“You can and you will,” Gold snarled. “Ask for another or leave.”

 _Leave! to leave after he’d worked so hard_. Killian chocked back a sob. “Please, please, another then. Oh sweet Jesus.”

Gold hit again. Hit him very hard. 

“Twenty two. Thank you, Mr Gold.” Killian moaned.

Gold sighed with pleasure. “Ask for the next stroke to be harder.” 

“I can’t, please I can’t.” Killian was weeping outright now. _The idea of it getting harder, of his begging for that._

“Do it. Do it, Jones,” the voice suddenly soft and pleasant, “and you may call me ‘sir’.”

“Please hit me harder, sir,” Killian sobbed, almost without hesitation.

And Gold did. And Killian screamed.

Gold dropped the whip again and, again, came closer. “Do you enjoy my whip, Jones?” he said, stroking Killian’s sore flesh.

No, sir,” Killian sobbed. 

“If you take twenty four strokes for me, I will take you to my bed and I will have you come upon my tongue."

Killian gasped. “Oh, sir, please. Please.”

“Do you remember when I had you kiss my whip and told you I had more to show you there?” Gold said, almost thoughtfully.

“Yes, sir."

“So do you wish for another stroke of the whip in order to earn that prize?” Gold pinched at Killian’s sore flesh, nailing digging in and twisting.

“Yes,” Killian said, his voice suddenly coming out like a broken snarl. “Do it. Just do it. Get it over with and take me to bed.”

Instead of chastising him for this, or demanding he beg, Gold laughed, laughed and hit him. _The hardest stroke of all._

*

“On your back, Jones.” Gold said as Killian got onto the bed.

“Sir, please. I’m ruined there. Let me be on my belly.”

Gold laughed a little. “Surely, Jones, you don’t mean to make me think that whipping has taught you nothing. And, in any case, I have given some thought to your comfort…” Gold leaned over and pulled back his counterpane and blankets, underneath was purple satin, almost, but not exactly, the fabric of his robe.

Killian shuddered, but settled himself upon it - it was cool under his heated skin - letting Gold take his wrists and attach the to the bed posts with more leather ties.

“This, Jones,” Gold whispered as he secured the last knot, “this, I promise, will ruin you more than a flogging ever could.” And he slid down and arranged himself between Killian’s spread legs, Killian gulped. The position felt so intimate. Like nothing they’d done before. Gold sliding his tongue into him had been done when he was handcuffed and face down, or when he was bent over his own dressing table. But never like this - on his back like a maiden, receiving tongue. He spread his legs a little wider and moaned softly at the thought, though which part of the thought he couldn’t quite say.

The first slight touch of Gold’s tongue - not on his hole but to the thin skin just above it - made him gasp. And then, when Gold did it again, with a little more pressure and grind, at the same spot, Killian writhed and yanked at the leather ties. “Oh,” he shuddered. “Oh, sir.”

“I haven’t started on you yet, Jones,” said Gold softly, his lips pressing close to Killian’s flesh so the vibrations of the words slunk through him.

Gold slipped his hands under Killian’s rear and dug sharp nails into the bruised and welted flesh there. Killian yelled with pain and at the same moment, Gold slid his tongue slowly, lavishly, over Killian’s hole. And when he did that for a second and then a third time, Killian tipped his head back, and he moaned, desperately.

Gold’s tongue did the same thing a few more times, with Gold occasionally twisting his fingers to purposely hurt Killian, or slipping up to lick his delicate skin there, or once or twice to bite is thighs hard enough to bruise. Killian’s head lolled on the pillows. Moaning and keening as waves of pleasure took him, breath ragged and broken, wrists smarting where he had yanked too hard at the leather straps. There were tears leaking from his eyes, his nipples were tight and pinched with want, and his cock, his cock was hard and throbbing and, to his shame, leaking constantly and stickily.

And then Gold’s tongue went inside him. This had happened before, but never with such tenacity as this. There was no doubt here that Gold was absolutely fucking him with that tongue, hard and fast, fingers moved from where he was bruised now to hold him, spread him open. Killian shifted his legs wider, thrusting down, driving onto that hot, slick, wet thing inside him, moaning, screaming, even making broken half-gurgling sounds as he writhed for it. And Gold laughed. Laughed right into him. The tongue fucking into him was smaller than Gold’s dick and didn’t reach as deep, but it was more lithe somehow, more slick and more depraved and obscene. 

Still Gold was in control of him. When Killian tried to grind down onto Gold’s tongue, Gold dug his fingers into Killian’s wounded flesh and muttered, “Not so eager, Jones. You will take what I allow you.”

And when Killian managed to make his wails and moans form a coherent word and he said something like, “Please, sir, please, please,” Gold slapped his thigh hard and pushed more words right into him, telling him, “You beg, Jones, only when I tell you to beg.”

On it went, like a haze of sensation now. He was close to his edge and yet, this wasn’t quite enough, or Gold was intentionally making it not quite enough. But just as Killian wrenched at the leather, yet again, bloodying his wrists now, wondering if Gold was ever going to let him come, Gold drove two fingers into him alongside his delicious tongue. And that was the final piece. Killian bucked into Gold’s mouth instantly, yelled out and came as hard as ever he could remember.

The next thing he knew, Gold was on top of him, supporting himself on one arm as he used his free hand to tilt Killian’s chin. 

And then, slowly, Gold kissed him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Killian didn’t argue again. He went quickly and bent over his dressing table, Gold behind him, already ripping down his breeches. “Just be quick then,” Killian over his shoulder, a snarl in his voice, suddenly. “And make it rough, sir. I want to go back on still able to feel your dick inside me.”_

Madame Mills steepled her fingers, over a surprisingly warm smile, sitting across from Killian in a baroque winged armchair. When she lowered her hands she said, “I must say, Mr Jones, you really have done extraordinarily well with our Mr Gold. I have never seen him like this. I believe I saw him whistling this morning.”

Killian nodded, barely hiding a smirk. He knew what that whistling was about. Last night it had been a month since they recommenced their relationship and Gold had gleefully celebrated the event. Killian still had the marks from that celebration all over his back. The waistcoat with the peacock feathers was the only one that covered them properly. Which was why he was wearing it now. 

It had been their first - and so far, only - time with a bullwhip. Killian had been chained by his wrists and blindfolded for it. Gold had enjoyed that whipping so much he stopped before Killian had managed to struggle and scream through a count of more than fifteen, placed a shaking hand on Killian’s shoulder and come, sudden and helpless, in his own breeches, whispering, “Dear god, Jones. The way you scream for me. Dear god. The things you - uh - you let me do.”

Killian’s dick still stirred to think of it. Even Gold couldn’t control his own vicious sadism sometimes - that he had come untouched from seeing Killian writhe and beg, in pain. 

And after that, Gold had kept him chained and kissed and bitten and worried every welt, until Killian was shaking, sobbing with the pain, and Gold was hard again.

“And as I said,” Madame Mills continued, “I truly would like to consider promoting you to the top of the bill, however…” she pursed her lips, then drew a breath. “Mr Jones, in your act, you have two, let’s say, showstoppers, the piece where you put your arm in the lion’s mouth and the piece where the lion stands upon your chest and eats the meat from your mouth.” Madame Mills gave a little shiver. She either loved that moment or hated it. Killian had often thought it amusing that the biggest reaction often came from the moment he placed a piece of raw meat in his mouth, rather than when he balanced on a high platform and had Delilah pluck it from between his teeth. “And thing thing is,” Madame Mills went on, “both those pieces you do with the female lion, correct?”

“Delilah,” Killian nodded. “Yes. She’s a good girl.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Madame Mills, standing then and beginning to pace around as seemed to be her way now. “But for the finale to the entire show…” She trailed off, looking at him, questioning.

“Samson?” Killian said. “The male. You want me to do those pieces with the male lion?”

“Yes,” Madame Mills pursed her lips again as she nodded her head. “One or the other. He just more of a look of a lion, the male. It’ll be more of a spectacle.”

Killian bit his lip. “I’ll give it some thought, Madame Mills,” he said.

*

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that whipping you took for me all day,” Gold said, softly - sweetly - as he slipped into Killian’s dressing room during the interval.

Killian was fixing is hair in a new long mirror he managed to persuade Madame Mills to have sent for him. “Nor me, sir.”

Gold was _panting_. “Show me how you are marked, Jones.”

His face still to the mirror, Killian pulled of his waistcoat and dropped it onto the floor. He knew how lurid his back looked. He wasn’t surprised when, behind him, Gold moaned aloud. “So beautiful. You know, Jones, I have half a mind to chain you up tonight and reopen every one of those slashes with a knife.”

Killian shuddered and turned around. “Please don’t, sir, let me heal.”

Gold laughed. “Demands tonight, is it?” He began to move closer. “Any more?”

“Yes,” said Killian, with a curl of his lip. “Make me come. I need to come. It’s been over a week. Please.”

Gold reached Killian, put his arms around him and kissed him once on the mouth. “Oh, how tiresome. Shut up about that and get over the dressing table.” 

“Sir, there isn’t time for that now.” The interval was only fifteen minutes. They never fucked during the show. Gold was onstage the entire time. 

But Gold’s eyes were dark with lust and Killian was already hard with what that look promised. “Do it, Jones. Do it now.”

Killian didn’t argue again. He went quickly and bent over his dressing table, Gold behind him, already ripping down his breeches. “Just be quick then,” Killian over his shoulder, a snarl in his voice, suddenly. “And make it rough, sir. I want to go back on still able to feel your dick inside me.”

Gold smiled. “Eyes in the mirror, Jones,” he said. Killian looked back to the tarnished glass. Behind him Gold was scrabbling through what was on the table. It was a litter of make up, sticks of eye kohl and pots of glitter and coloured grease. “This is such a mess,” Gold muttered, tossing various products onto the floor. “So much make up. You’re such a vain fucking whore, Jones. And this will be very rough for you if I don’t find something useful amongst this trash…” Gold shoved more of Killian’s make up onto the floor, still sorting through while he used is other hand to stroke Killian’s flank and then his bared arse, teasing him enough to keep him needy for it, slapping him a little, pinching him. And Killian could already see in the mirror, Gold’s eyes glittering. Gold still put together, while Killian was already falling apart, bucking up and keening. 

“Please sir, your cock, please. Fuck me,” Killian said. And at that moment Gold grabbed a tub of greasepaint with a sound of satisfaction and slicked the entire thing of it over his dick.

It was quick then, quick and rough. Gold just drove right in and the grease wasn’t really enough and wasn’t quite right, but he had a hand in Killian’s hair and another on his thigh, keeping Killian pinned with no control. 

Killian was screaming, bucking up and then the two minute bell rang…

…With a brisk, businesslike noise, Gold leant over, bit Killian hard at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and slipped free. Then straightened and left. Left Killian half naked and panting so hard the mirror was steamed up and aching and barely sated at all. 

And he was still bent over like that, staring at his own ruined reflection, when he heard Gold already in the ring.

*

After the show, Killian’s only thought was to go straight to Gold’s rooms and demand he finish what he’d begun in the dressing room., but as he rounded the Top, on his way to the south entrance, Swan caught his arm from behind. 

“Hey!” Killian span around, pulling his arm out of her grip, so swiftly he grazed the back of his hand with the point of his hook. Which was odd, as he hadn’t hurt himself with his hook in years. “Oh,” he muttered, turning to see Swan there, as he raised his hand to his mouth to lick at the scratch he’d made. “It’s you.”

“Yeah, hey,” said Swan. It was busy around them. The show had finished half an hour ago, but punters were still milling out of the Top. A lot of them looked twice at Killian as they passed. He grinned and them and flashed his eyebrows. A pretty girl caught his eye and shyly dipped her chin to her chest as she smiled at him.

Swan rolled her eyes at him. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder at the pretty girl to know what he was doing. “Oh, leave her alone, Killian.” Swan pulled a flask from her back pocket. “Come have a drink withe me.”

“Don’t you have a business to run?”

Swan shrugged. “Girls’ll be okay for half an hour.”

Killian nodded and smiled and then followed Swan, away behind the Top, and down a slope to a patch of grass bisected by a stream. Near the stream was a large oak tree. It was dark down here. They both sat down with their backs against the tree and passed the flask between them. For a minute or two, neither of them spoke. Then Swan said, “Regina’s suddenly got very keen on you.”

“Aye. She surely has. Wants me to close the show,” said Killian, smugly, taking a pull on the gin flask.

“Aren’t you Mr Big Time?” The goofy smile on Swan’s face was right there in here voice.

Killian squirmed, rubbing his sore back against the tree truck behind him. “Yeah. Only problem is she wants me to use Samson as my closer.”

“Samson is the boy?”

“Yeah.” It seemed odd to Killian that Swan, Swan who he considered to be his best friend, didn’t know the names of his lions. He sighed softly. The circus lights were visible above them, up the slope, but the bustle and hurdy gurdy music seemed so far away. “It’ll be hard maybe even impossible with Samson,”Killian said. “The thing about lions, about the mastery of lions is you need them to trust you and you have to trust them. They could kill me, either of them, any time. They are both far stronger than I. And I don’t treat them well. I lock them up and make them do tricks. I whip them if they don’t behave. And yet, they allow it. With Delilah, she does it because, well, that soppy great cat, she loves me. No one idea why, but she does. Samson’s different. With Samson, it’s like he’s playing along, waiting for his chance. And soon as he gets it, he’s going to rip my bloody head off.”

Swan laughed. “Blimey, bud. So which are you?”

“What, love?”

Killian looked at Swan and she bit her lip. “Your talk of your lions and you reminds me of you and Gold. So which lion are you.” She shrugged. “Do you love Gold, or are you biding your time to bite his head off?”

Killian plucked the flask from Swan’s fingers. “You don’t know what me and Gold are like.”

“I know a bit. I know your back’s covered in welts. I saw them when you lifted your waistcoat as you came offstage. You whip your lions and he whips you. What’s that? Karma?”

“I don’t know what it is.” Killian took another long pull on the flask. “I like what he does to me. I don’t know why.”

Then Swan looked off into the distance and with her face turned away from Killian she said, “Regina wants you to join us one evening. Post show. In her bedroom.”

Killian almost spat out his mouthful of gin. “Fuck off, she does not.”

“She does. She told me to arrange it. She know’s you’re trade. Asked me to find out what you charge. She’s warmed to you a lot since you got Gold under control. I think it’s fascinated her.” Swan was still looking away, as if made awkward by this whole thing.

“She can fascinate all she likes. It’s not going to happen,” Killian scoffed, but deep inside he knew Madame Mills intrigued him.

Swan finally turned to look at him. “Why not? Because you’re not allowed.”

“No. I’m allowed. I can do what I want. I want to be with Gold. That’s all. No one can give me what he gives me.”

Swan looked at him for a second. “If I didn’t know better, Killian, I’d say you were falling in love with him.”

“What? Don’t be stupid. Who could ever love with him? He’s a beast.”

“Someone who loves beasts.”

*

Gold looked up as Killian slipped through the curtain and began to undress. He said nothing until Killian was naked, and then, as Killian crossed to the centre of the room, asked, “Where have you been?”

“Been, sir? I’ve been nowhere, really, just thought I’d see if you wanted me this evening.”

Gold nodded, standing up and walking towards Killian, “I thought that after leaving you so bereft in the interval you’d be straight here after the show. I suppose, I admire your restraint. Tell me -” Gold reached Killian and drew a single index finger down his bare chest. “Do you ache, Jones?”

The finger slipped over Killian’s belly and Gold rubbed it over the tip of Killian’s leaking dick. Both of them where breathing hard. “Yes, sir,” Killian said, half choking on it. His thighs were shaking. He took a breath, “Please sir, please let me come sir. I need to. I need to come. Please.”

Gold looked at him. His eyes were wild. Killian watched Gold’s tongue play behind his teeth - _that tongue_ \- just before he said, “I thought so. I know what you need tonight, Jones.”

Gold drew, from the pocket of his robe, the ball gag Killian had worn several times before. Killian grimaced at the sight of it. “Please sir, not that, you know I hate that.”

“You do, don’t you,” said Gold, lifting the gag to Killian’s mouth.

Killian shook his head. “No. I’ll be good. I’ll be obedient. Please don’t.” He really meant it. He hated that thing. The taste. The feel of it. The humiliating way it made his moans louder, the way it made him drool like a dog. His voice broke on the final, “Please.”

Gold looked at Killian, looked right into is eyes, and smiled. “I do so adore it when you beg not to be gagged, Jones. You know it’s futile and yet you always do it so desperately. Now, open your mouth or this evening becomes something very different.”

Killian closed his eyes, opened his mouth. 

Gold made him wait like that a second - just stand there with his mouth wide open for a gag - before he pressed the sour rubber into his mouth. The taste made Killian’s dick jerk. Gold noticed and hummed softly. “So contrary. Why is it the things you whine and complain about the most are the ones that have you panting in my hands the quickest, desperate to be allowed to come.” Gold touched the corner of Killian’s gagged mouth. Spit was already leaking from it. Killian couldn’t answer. He let his eyes close, snapping them open again as Gold slapped his face and smiled.

Aside from the gag, which was a mercifully rare addition, that night was like so many others. Gold took Killian to his bed, tied him to it face down (tonight there was no question of Killian being on his back and hiding the marks Gold so adored). And once Killian was helpless, Gold tormented him with fingers and tongue until he was screaming into the gag for a dick inside him - to be taken and fucked, to be carelessly used in the pursuit of Gold’s own desires. 

After Gold had come doing exactly that, scratching at Killian’s marked back, he slid back down Killian’s body again. As he sensed Gold’s face, pressed so close to his raw hole - to the place Gold’s come was dripping out of him - Killian turned his head and tried to bury his face in his arm with the shame of it. He whimpered when he felt Gold licking again at him there. His stomach rolled as he felt Gold deliberately sucking his own seed back from where he had shot it into Killian.

But that shame was nothing to what came next, as Gold returned, pulling himself back up, over Killian and unbuckled the gag. Before Killian could say anything , or even stretch out his aching mouth, Gold’s thumb was hooked around his jaw holding his mouth open, another hand in his hair, turning his head and, quick and sharp, Gold spat his entire spend into Killian’s gasping mouth. 

Killian made a sound like a broken sob as Gold forced his mouth closed again and hissed. “You will swallow that, and then you will say thank you.” Killian nodded wide eyed as he swallowed the tainted seed in his mouth. 

Gold freed his mouth and Killian only paused for a moment before he said, “Thank you. Thank you for spitting your seed into my mouth, sir. Thank you for letting me swallow it.”

Killian’s cock jerked to say such things. And, although Gold had just come, Killian could feel him panting, hot on his cheek. “Oh, Jones,” Gold said, softly. “I simply must have you.”

“You do have me, sir. I belong to you.”

Gold made a soft noise as he leant over and unfastened KIllian’s restraints. “Get on the floor, Jones. Kneel at my feet.”

Killian did as he was told as quickly as he could. The fucking had been rough and his cock was still angrily hard, but he managed it with very little trouble. As he lowered his head to look at Gold’s boots, knowing what was coming next, he whispered, “Please, sir. Can I come tonight, sir?”

“Shut up, Jones. I didn’t remove your gag so I could listen to your petulant whining. I removed it so you could get on your knees and kiss my boot and thank me for _not_ allowing you to come.”

Tears were prickling Killian’s eyes. “Sir, please. No. Don’t.”

“Do as you have been told, Jones.”

Pouting Killian got onto the floor, lowered his head to ground and kissed the toe of Gold’s boot. “Thank you, sir,” he said. His voice flat and dull. 

“Terrible,” said Gold. “Lick it.”

Killian lifted his head a fraction, but before he could respond, Gold said firmly, “Lick it.”

Killian took a breath and did it. He dragged his tongue over the leather, slowly. He loathed the way he loved being made to do this. He closed his eyes and kept going, caressing Gold’s boot like a lover, with his lips, with every part of his mouth. Moaning into the leather under his tongue. His cock was dripping onto the floor between his spread legs. When he was done he looked up at Gold. “Sir?”

Gold smiled. “Not quite.” Gold lifted his boot from the ground and presented the sole to Killian’s panting mouth. 

Killian’s stomach rolled. “Sir, please.”

“Do it, Jones. Kiss the sole of my boot. Of your master’s boot.”

Killian locked his jaw, looked up at Gold with an insolent expression. “Master?”

“That’s right, Jones. Kiss the sole of my boot and you may call me master.”

“No,” said Killian softly, “let me call you master and I will kiss the sole of your boot.

Gold gave an indulgent chuckle. “Alright, Jones. As you wish.”

“Thank you, master.” Killian took hold of Gold’s ankle, dipped his head and kissed the sole of Gold’s boot. Then, lifting his gaze to lock onto Gold’s glazed eyes, he pressed his tongue into the apex of Gold’s heel and slowly, panting hard, he dragged the flat of his tongue all the way up the dusty sole of that boot to the pointed tip, where he kissed it and whispered. “Thank you for not letting me come, master.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It had been a while since it had last been asked of him. He loved to strip himself for Gold, but nothing quite beat the rush of stripping himself slowly in front of a crowd. Of teasing them, and making them want him. Of frustrating them, and leaving them with nothing. Of jerking his hard dick, naked, in front of an audience screaming their desire for him, “Course I have love. I’ve stripped on stage in all the great cities of Europe.”_

Gold didn’t let Killian come for another two weeks, after that. His head was swimming with want of it. He found ways to suffer through his days, with work and the show. But each evening he called Gold master and knelt before him naked. And that was where it felt like torture. He was so obedient, so desperate, he did all Gold wanted, and all of it made his suffering worse. Made him want so much more. He could think of nothing but coming. 

He was tempted to see to himself, of course. To touch him own cock one evening when he slept in his own cot. But if he did so, it would be clear what he’d done - unless he faked his hopeless wanting. He was so, so desperate in Gold’s presence now, reduced chanting the words, “Please, master, please,” over and over, with no thought for his own dignity, if Gold so much as breathed near his straining dick.

And Gold enjoyed it. Made him beg until he was hoarse, then paused as if in thought, as if considering it, and said, “No.”

Until one morning, when Killian awoke, aching all over and with his hand still bound to the bedstead and Gold rolled over, and kissed him until he was panting and writhing, and said, “I will make you come tonight, Jones. I will urinate in your open mouth as you touch yourself. 

This had come out of, basically, nowhere. A whole new level of depravity. With Gold it was impossible to know how deep this rabbit hole went. Every time it seems the bottom was reached…

And this was… Surely this was not even… Gold was stroking Killian’s jaw, as Killian began, “Master, I-“

Gold’s hand slipped over Killian’s mouth, cutting him off. “No, Jones, don’t protest. Don’t fight yourself over this. You want this. You want it all. And you will not come as I piss over your disgusting face, you will not come at your own hand. You will merely writhe with want, edge yourself for me, you foul creature. Just for my pleasure. And when that is done, I will bring you off with my hand.”

Killian could hardly believe what Gold had said. He had never come from Gold’s touch, only his own hand as a display for Gold’s pleasure, while Gold insulted him and jeered, or whilst being fucked. He wasn’t even sure if he could believe this. On several recent occasions Gold had chosen to deny a release he had previously promised, commanding Killian to cease touching himself when he was right on his edge, which he always did, but screaming and cursing and so full of frustrated rage he was only good then for being sent away or being whipped.

But Gold had never offered his own hand before. Killian pulled against the tie on his wrist to reach over and kiss Gold’s cheek. He kissed it over and over again, gasping, “Oh, master. Master. Thank you.”

Gold laughed, reached over and found Killian’s hard, desperate dick, and jerked it twice. “Good boy, Jones.”

*

Killian was lying on is back on a raised platform, one knee cocked, arms hanging down on either side of it, like he was some sort of sacrificial offering. A long ramp led from the platform to the ground and joined up with the cage that Samson sat in, growling idly. Mary was outside the caged wall that ran all around the ring for Killian’s act, ready to release Samson on his signal.

There was a raw leg of mutton on Killian’s chest and, also outside the cage, was David, with a gun. Killian turned his head to speak to him. “So if I give the signal, if I wave or shout ‘shoot’ or ‘gun’ or anything like that fire the gun into the air okay.”

David tipped his head back and looked up. “Shoot the roof?”

“Yeah. It’ll startle Samson, make him scared. It works. Lions are scared of sudden noises.” Killian was breathing hard. He was wearing one of his dozens and dozens of pairs of black leather trousers, but they felt hot and sticky. He was scared. He hadn’t felt this scared for a long, long time.

“But K,” said David. “Shouldn’t I shoot the lion. If the lion tries to bite you. I can just shoot it. I’m a good shot. I won’t nick ya.”

Killian’s stomach flipped. He wasn’t even sure if it was fear or something else. He stared at David for a second, then said, “David, mate, the most important thing, the only important thing, about today, is this, no matter what happens, you do not shoot my fucking lion, understand?”

“Sure, K, sure, but if the lion is gonna eat you?”

“You do not shoot my lion, David. Say you understand.”

David was about to say something, to argue back, probably, when they were interrupted by a long whistle from the back of the Top. Swan was there, caught in a splosh of sunlight as she swept the canvass flap aside. “I’ll do it,” she said, marching down the aisle towards the ring. “I’ll stand there with a fucking gun in my hand while a lion rips your face off and do nothing about it. You fucking idiot, Killian.”

“Swan,” Killian shouted, pretty much unable to move at all, with sheep’s blood now running down his chest on both sides, “what are you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re not doing anything stupid, like telling armed men they aren’t meant to shoot a lion that’s gonna kill you.” And she turned into the stalls and took a seat in the middle of the third row, feet up on the chair in front of her.

“Killian,” this was Mary. “Your boy’s getting really restless over here. You think we can move along?”

Killian gave Swan a sharp look, turned his head so he was looking at the ceiling, took the mutton leg and place it carefully in his mouth, raw meat juices running straight down his throat and then said, as best he could, “Okay. Do it.”

He heard Samson move onto the ramp. He’d spent the last week training him to run the couple of tricks it contained, a jump and a balance bar. Every other time, the reward at the end had just been the meat. Killian wasn’t sure what Samson would do when he found his tormentor and master presented to him along with his prize.

A few moments later, when Samson was over him, the whole Top holding it’s breath, Killian whispered around the joint in his mouth, “Good boy, Sam, good boy.” Samson looked at him quizzically for a second, then snarled and tore the meat from his mouth. 

Killian curled his body and rolled, flipping himself out from under Samson, off the platform and into a rather more graceless landing than he would have liked on the sawdust floor. He glanced over his shoulder at Samson, crouched on the platform, ripping into the mutton, then looked out into the auditorium. Swan was staring horrified. He looked down. Across his chest were four bright red slashes from Samson’s claws. One of them, in particular, was nastily deep, half his chest was just slick red blood.

“I’m getting the Quack,” he heard Mary say, behind him and then the colours and lights of the Top started to blur. And he could hear the circus music, but he knew the music wasn’t playing…

*

 

Killian woke up in his bed, in his caravan. Whale was there, packing his quackery equipment into his bag and saying something quietly to Swan as he left.

Killian’s chest hurt, but not so much. He was bandaged, stitched underneath from what it felt like. Swan was standing by the door, watching him, “Hey buddy,” she said. “Good news is you managed not to die.”

“And the bad news?”

“At least two days in bed and no show for a week.” Killian opened his mouth, but Swan spoke over him. “Don’t even start. That’s after Regina turned her death stare on Whale, so we can be sure it’s the minimum you can get away with without opening it all up again. It weren’t that bad, not as bad as it could have been you reckless fucker.” She laughed, came over to the bed and put her hand flat on his bandaged chest. “That deep one’s going to leave a scar though.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “Fine.” Then he said, “Does Gold know?”

Swan smirked. “Course he does. You’re not in the show tonight. He needs to know.”

Swan’s hand was stroking his chest through the bandages. Killian wasn’t sure if what she was doing was meant to be a comfort or a tease. He could feel his dick stirring. “What did he say, though? Did he say anything about what happened?”

“Gold? I don’t know. I think Mary went to tell him.” Swan paused and Killian wanted to ask her if Mary could come and tell him if Gold had said anything about him being injured, but he didn’t really know how to ask that, so he said nothing. “Anyway, Killian, I wanted to ask you, about the other day, when I told you Regina wanted you to, you know, come to bed, with us.”

“Swan, this is hardly a good time.” He was slurring. Whale must have given him something for the pain, maybe laudanum from how much his head was swimming. “And in any case, weren’t you the one who was always telling me to be so careful, that if I so much as touched you and Gold found out-“

“Which was true. How did you persuade him to take you back, by the way? I’ve never known him change his mind about anything.” 

Killian grinned. “I am a very charming man, Swan. That’s all you need to know about it.”

Swan sniffed at this. “I know Madame Mills gave you a bottle of violet oil, and I know you’ve smelt like violet for weeks. And, anyway, Gold won’t know. I only ever said be careful. I’ll be in Madame Mill’s bedroom, that’s completely private. Not like the top field or out on some hillside only half an hour from the camp. And she doesn’t want much.”

“Swan,” Killian indicated down at his bandaged chest. “I’m not capable of anything right now. I don’t even know if I can get to the privy by myself let alone tongue you and your mistress into a frenzy.”

“I think it might be best to wait until you’re out of bed, for sure. And it’s not that, not even that. She just want you to strip. She says she does not care to touch you. But she wants to see you take your clothes off. She has some strange desires.”

“What’s strange about that. I’ll have you know, Swan, I am quite a sight to behold under my clothes.”

“Alright, the ego on you, sweet Jesus.” Swan laughed and pressed gently down KIllian’s stitches. Just enough to make him wince. “But you’ve done that before, right. Took your clothes off, for them that wants to pay to watch you?”

Killian grinned. Because he had, and he enjoyed the Swan could tell such a thing from looking at him. Although, in truth, it had been a while since it had last been asked of him. He loved to strip himself for Gold, but nothing quite beat the rush of stripping himself slowly in front of a crowd. Of teasing them, and making them want him. Of frustrating them, and leaving them with nothing. Of jerking his hard dick, naked, in front of an audience screaming their desire for him, “Course I have love. I’ve stripped on stage in all the great cities of Europe.”

“Well,” said Swan, taking her hand off his chest. “Well, it’s that. Just that.” 

“And you’ll you be there?”

Swan stood up. “You bet, buddy. Wouldn’t miss it.” Swan started fussing with the room, drawing the curtains and moving a water jug and a chamber pot within reach.

Killian swallowed. She was leaving. “My body’s not… Under my clothes, I’m in a bit of a state. It’s not just Samson, I don’t know if you saw.”

“Yeah, we did. Whale said to tell you to be careful. He left some iodine. Said if you’re gonna keep letting Gold open your back like that you’re gonna get an infection.” She nodded at the bottle on his wash stand. “Those marks why you keep your waistcoat on in the show most nights now?”

Killian bit his lip. “Aye. Make up not quite enough lately. Shame I didn’t wear it in the Top this afternoon, truly. But thing is, Swan, Madame Mills she might not get the pretty show she wants. I’m a mess.”

Swan was over by the door now, she turned with a hand on it. “Oh, I think she will, Killian.”

After Swan left, Killian lay in his cot and watched the sky get dark through his window as his pain killers wore off and his chest started to hurt more and more. He waited for Gold to visit him.

But Gold didn’t come.

*

Almost a week later, Killian’s last night off from performing, and the plan was set. He left his caravan before the show was ended, knowing Gold was still in the ring and made his way to Madame Mills’s tent. He couldn’t tell if what he was doing was foolish or not. But Madame Mills had offered him, via Swan’s messenger service, enough money for the evening to cover his week laid off from work and Whale’s quackery. It seemed a reasonable offer, just to strip himself bare while she watched. 

He knew he was keeping this from Gold deliberately, sneaking around, as he was, but Gold had not been to his caravan once, despite what he had promised Killian the morning before the accident, or even sent him a message. Gold, Killian thought, as he picked his way through the dark camp, should be grateful Killian had remained obedient to him through his time convalescing, despite the fact he was lying in his bed, with nothing else to do, except read adventure books about pirates and look forward to Swan bringing him gin.

The main part of Madame Mills’s tent was empty. There were candle’s burning in the bedroom. He slipped through.

The bedroom he had only glimpsed was more opulent than he’d dreamed, more opulent than Gold’s. The bed was enormous, an iron frame enamelled white and decked with furs and silk. Madame Mills lay on the bed, propped up on a heap of rich pillows.

“Hello, Mr Jones. I’m so glad you could come,” she said, in a darker, sweeter tone than he’d ever heard. 

Madame Mills was wearing nothing but a corset, cut high enough to cover her tits, and stockings. He couldn’t tell in the shadows, but he thought her muff might be totally bare. He swallowed. 

And then Swan came through from another room. She wore white where her lover wore black. A white vest and loose white knickers edged with lace. She looked at him, “Hey,” she said, cheerily, as if they did this everyday. And climbed onto the bed.

“I’m just to strip?” said Killian, “that is correct?” His voice was wavering dramatically.

“That’s right, Mr Jones. And do take your time over it. I am not in a desperate hurry to have you bare, as I would imagine your usual master is.” Madame Mills shifted on the bed and Swan moved down and put herself between Madame Mills’s legs, curled like a shell with her face close to the shadowy spot where Madame Mills’s pussy must be.

“As you wish,” said Killian and he slipped his leather coat off his shoulders and began to unbutton his waistcoat. It took a while. This waistcoat had twenty tiny buttons. When he slipped it off and bared his scarred chest, Madame Mills wound her hands in Swan’s hair and gasped, her dark red lips parting. Her own tongue just visible between them.

Killian was so hard his hands were shaking. He had missed this. He had missed seeing desire on faces that were not Gold’s.

He began on his black leather breeches, kicking off his boots at the same time. He tried to take his time, aware that he had hardly spared a moment to tease, but Madame Mills still gasped and bucked up when he freed his hard dick from the leather.

And then he was stood naked before her. He raised his arms, put his hand and hook behind his head to show himself. He could hide the way he was panting.

“Turn around,” Madame Mills gasped, “show me what he’s done to you. What you’ve let him do.”

Killian moaned at this and turned to show Madame Mills the mess of scars and marks and old bites and bruises on his back. He heard Swan whistle, behind him and then Madame Mills said, “Mr Jones! Don’t you work hard to keep that creature happy!”

He turned back to face them, “I do my best, Madame Mills,” and saw that Swan was sitting up now, watching him too.

“So what would we have you do now, Mr Jones? Our evening cannot end here, can it? Would you like us to tie you down? I hear that is a favourite of yours. Or, tell me, do you enjoy it if you are denied release?”

Killian swallowed. Madame Mills’s hand had slipped between Swan’s legs. “S-sometimes,” he stammered.

“What’s the longest he’s denied you?” Madame Mills was smiling. Killian shuddered.

“Right now I haven’t come for three weeks, ma’am.” His voice sounded hoarse and distant.

Madame Mills’s hand moved faster, Swan was gasping, unable to look at him. “Goodness,” said Madame Mills. “Do you want to?”

Killian raised his chin. “All the time, ma’am. All the time.” And, as he said that, his dick jerked.

Killian didn’t often find women attractive. Even Swan, who dressed and acted enough like a street urchin to intrigue him, only caught his fancy from time to time, but Madame Mills on the other hand, he didn’t know if he could deny her anything. Especially not right now. Especially when she said, “Touch yourself, Mr Jones. Make yourself come for me.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I made sure Mills didn’t exploit your misfortune.” Gold said, still kissing and sucking at Killian’s pulse. “I paid for Whale’s quackery myself, ensured he made you a priority. I even allowed him to chastise me over the state of your back.” Killian felt Gold smile against his skin. “And I covered your lost earnings. Oh,” Gold gasped as he rubbed his face against the scruff on Killian’s cheek. “I am going to hurt you so much tonight, Jones. I hope you are feeling brave. You’re going to scream and scream for me. You’re going to beg me to stop.”_

Killian looked at Madame Mills, and then at Swan. He took a breath. “You said just the show. I’ve given you what you wanted.”

Madame Mills turned and slipped off the bed. She stood up and, as she came nearer, Killian could see her properly. Her corset ended at her hips, she wore nothing below it. A neat cluster of black hair sat on the curve of her cunt, glistening, still, from where Swan’s mouth had been. He swallowed to see it. She was so beautiful. “What about,” she said, as she reached him and ran a finger along his jawline, “what about what you want, Mr Jones?”

“Me? I want to keep myself for him,” Killian said, lifting his chin as Madame Mills’s fingers grazed it and then traced his throat, his chest. He closed his eyes as his dick jumped. 

Madame Mills made a soft noise, getting closer. Closer and closer all the time. “Are you in love with him? With our enigmatic Mr Gold?”

“I don’t, I don’t know,” as he spoke, Killian opened his eyes and looked in to hers.

“He doesn’t love you. You know that, don’t you? I doubt that creature has ever loved anyone apart from himself.” Madame Mills kept her hand on Killian’s belly and moved around him, until she was pressing against him from behind. “Do you enjoy the way he fucks you, Mr Jones?” She said, pushing in close and sliding her hand down to fist his dick. “Does he make you feel like no one else ever has?”

Killian moaned. His dick was wet and Madame Mills used the slickness to coat her hand as she jerked him once. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes. Like no one else.”

“And he beats you, for his pleasure?” Madame Mills’s mouth was right by his ear, her chin on his shoulder, as she jerked his dick again, again and again, slow and firm. It wasn’t going to take much. “Do you enjoy that?”

“No,” Killian moaned, tipping his head back as her grip tightened. “No, ma’am. I don’t like it. But I let him. It turns me on to let him. I’m stronger than him. I could stop him, uh, but I don’t.” 

“Are you close, Mr Jones?” Madame Mills moved her hand a little faster. 

“Yes. Yes, ma’am.” Killian looked at Swan, sitting on the bed, gazing at him, lip’s parted, cheeks flushed. She wanted him. He could see it now, so clearly. Oh, he liked that. “Touch yourself, darling,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

Swan bit her lip and slipped her hand between her legs. She was moaning softly after a second. That, and Madame Mills’s hand moving faster, gripping harder, pushed him right to edge. And then, as Madame Mills’s mouth moved even closer to his ear, and she breathed, “And yet, with all you give to him, all you allow him to do, he didn’t even visit you when you were injured,” Killian came. 

*

As Killian slipped through the curtains, Gold looked up, his face lit up. “Jones.” He got up from the Chesterfield and all but ran to where Killian was standing on the rug, already taking off his trousers as fast as he could. 

As soon as Gold reached Killian, he put a hand on his waist. “Jones,” he said again. His chest was heaving. “Get on you knees before me. Kiss my boot.” Gold was already hard. Killian could hear it in his voice.

“I’m doing it, master. Just wait.” Killian kicked of his trousers and sank to his knees, then lowered his face to the floor and kissed both Gold’s boots, over and over, panting and moaning, feeling the leather under his mouth, licking at it. Pressing his tongue firmly enough that Gold could feel it.

And Gold whimpered. 

When Killian raised himself up and sat back, Gold cupped his jaw with one hand. “Jones. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’m glad.” Killian put his hand over Gold’s own on his face. “But Mr Gold, sir, why didn’t you come and see me? I really wanted you to.”

Gold flinched. Just a small movement, but Killian, so close, saw it clearly. “I am sorry, Jones, I did not care to.”

Killian frowned. “Mr Gold. Why?”

“I would ask you not to question what I do, Jones.”

“Mr Gold. I need to know. I was hurt. I wanted you. Please. Please tell me why you didn’t come,” Killian shook his head as he spoke, feeling almost frantic with a mixture of desperate desire and guilt. 

Gold sucked in air through his nose. “Jones, I didn’t come because, because…” And he looked away. “I do not enjoy what you do. Your manner of performance. I did not think I could look upon you, torn up by that beast and not, not lose myself to anger over your behaviour. I have a temper, you know.” He smiled, almost shy. “I dislike the way you risk this body that belongs to me. I thought it best to stay away. Truly, I-“ and Gold ran his hand down Killian’s scarred chest, “-I do not care to think of anyone else hurting you, Jones.”

Killian looked hard into Gold’s eyes. “Sir. I would prefer it if you were the only thing who hurt me too,” he said and then he kept staring at Gold, his breath catching over and over, until Gold bent, and kissed him. At least his single orgasm in Madame Mills’s tent hadn’t affected his ability to become reduced to a panting desperate mess with a few deft touches of Gold’s fingers, and that tongue coaxing it’s persistent way into his mouth.

“I still took care of you, Jones,” Gold said, taking hold of Killian by the hair and tipping his head back.

Killian gasped, as Gold kissed his neck. “Did you, sir? What did you do?”

“I made sure Mills didn’t exploit your misfortune.” Gold said, still kissing and sucking at Killian’s pulse. “I paid for Whale’s quackery myself, ensured he made you a priority. I even allowed him to chastise me over the state of your back.” Killian felt Gold smile against his skin. “And I covered your lost earnings. Oh,” Gold gasped as he rubbed his face against the scruff on Killian’s cheek. “I am going to hurt you so much tonight, Jones. I hope you are feeling brave. You’re going to scream and scream for me. You’re going to beg me to stop.”

“Sir, I-“ But Killian didn’t know what to say to any of that and his words faded.

“Have you kept yourself for me, Jones?” Gold whispered, lips against Killian’s temple. But before he could even begin, Gold said, “Of course you have. Look at you, writhing like this. Desperate. You’re such filth, Jones. Of course you kept yourself for me. You belong to me, every part of you.”

Gold carried on kissing and caressing Killian almost to the point of worshipping him. He got down onto the floor and pushed Killian onto his back on the rug. Killian felt the old bruises on is back prickle and smart. And before he knew what was happening, Gold was kissing his belly, then licking at the weeping tip of his dick, then slipping lower, between his legs.

“Mr Gold, please,” Killian managed, through moans, as Gold’s mouth at his hole made him thrash, and Gold cooed affectionate terms, between kissing and sucking, licking and biting. He enjoyed Gold like this. This soft, loving sadism. But he missed the rage Gold used to direct at him. No one could give him what Gold could give him, and sometimes it seemed that even Gold himself could no longer satisfy Killian’s need to be degraded and abused. Gold slipped his tongue in and out of Killian and said, “You disgusting creature, Jones. The way you make me want you.”

Killian could feel Gold’s own erection, as Gold shifted, pressing into his thigh. Hard and demanding. There was truly nothing he wanted so much as that dick inside him. He wanted to beg for it. “Fuck me,” he said softly, “please sir, fuck me.”

“Not yet, Jones,” Gold said, moving back up Killian’s body in a mixture of nasty kisses and savage bites, skimming artfully around the wounds on is chest. “You need this so much Jones. You need to be controlled. Tell me, Jones, tell me how much you love it.”

“I love it, master. I belong to you.”

Gold kissed him on the mouth again. Both of them were panting hard. “I have a little treat for you tonight, Jones.” Gold slipped a hand into the pocket of his elegant, white trousers and produced something familiar, something glittering.

 _David’s handcuffs. The heaviest handcuffs in the world._

Killian stared as Gold held them up, dangling them seductively in front of Killian’s face. “Did you steal them?” he breathed.

Gold looked at the handcuffs, “Oh no, Jones. I simply asked David if I could borrow them. I told him I wanted to chain you up and fuck you. Every last person in this flea-bitten circus knows you are my property and that I do with you as I will.”

Killian’s hips jolted at this. He swallowed. “Master, thank you, master.” Gold smiled, and then Killian said, eager to have Gold’s dick in him as soon as possible, “Would you have me get on your bed, sir? So you can chain me to it? Chain me to it and fuck me?” 

“No, Jones.” Gold sat up, urging Killian to do the same. “I am quite happy where I am.” And he shuffled around behind Killian, and deftly locked his wrists together behind his back. Killian moaned and rolled his hips as soon as it was done. “Oh yes, you do so need this control,” Gold muttered, moving back around and teasing Killian with a hand in his hair and a tease of a kiss that never quite fell on his lips the way he wanted - until he was moaning, pulling at the cuffs, as Gold held him tight and made him accept only what was given to him. Which was, of course, nothing like enough.

Killian had learned to work with lions from a man called Malcolm and a travelling fayre called Goodfellow’s. They worked their way up and down the South coast, catching all the May Fairs, Jack O the Green, Whitsun and Midsummer. Malcolm had taught him how to work with beasts, and, one day, had told him that all circus folk should have a second string. “Lions are popular, but these days you never know when a thing will fall out of fashion,” he’d said. “And I coulda teached you knife throwing, boy, but sword swallowing will never be wanting for customers.”

Since those lesson, this had been the longest Killian had gone without making a little money on the side with his ever popular second string. He was surprised, now, to discover he barely missed it. But sometimes, he missed how enraged Gold had become when he discovered Killian selling himself.

That was the first time, Killian knew, he had betrayed his master. That first time Gold had discovered the transgression himself, and his anger had been placated without too much trouble; the second time, when he had kissed Swan, she had been the one to let Gold know what had happened, it had been harder work to win Gold back, but he had managed it. Perhaps, then, the best course of action, would be for him to admit himself what had happened, perhaps.

Killian swallowed. “Mr Gold,” he said, his heart hammering. “I need to tell you something. I did something. This evening, before I came here.”

“Did you, Jones?” Gold licked over Killian’s lips. “What was that?”

“Madame Mills asked me to come to her rooms, sir.” Gold’s mouth froze on Killian’s. Gold’s whole body was tense. Killian swallowed. “She asked me to strip myself for her.”

“Did she,” Gold said, his voice tiny and hard. “And did you do this thing she requested?”

“Yes, sir. I did. I said no, at first, but she offered to pay me. To cover my medical bills. I didn’t know you had paid them. She didn’t tell me.”

“You, you did it?” Gold said again, “you stripped for her?”

“Yes sir.” Killian wished he had done this before the handcuffs had gone on. Wished he could touch Gold gently on the shoulder, reassure him it had been nothing but a mistake.

“This is a very serious matter,” Gold said through tightly clenched teeth. “Please tell me, Jones, did it end there. Did she ask more for you than that you undress yourself and show her your body.”

Killian took a breath. “She told me that would be all, but when I came to her, when I was naked, she, she…” Another breath. “She touched my dick and made me come, sir. I’m sorry. I had kept it for you, I swear. Until then. And I hadn’t seen you, and, oh, sir, I am sorry. I am so very sorry. Just tell me what to do, sir, master, please. I just climaxed for her - for them, Swan was there too. But you hadn’t forbidden it. I hadn’t seen you.” Killian paused and waited, Gold’s body was still taught against his. “Please sir. Please say something.” 

Eventually, Gold said, “Did you enjoy it, Jones? Do not lie to me.”

Killian looked away. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir, I did. She spoke of you, only of you, while she did it. And I’d missed you so.”

“I see.” Gold pushed Killian back down onto the floor, uncomfortable on his chained wrists, and straddled him. “The thing is, Jones, the trouble is, taking up with Madame Mills is truly the worst kind of betrayal.” His voice was low, low and terribly sinister. “That woman, you see, Jones, would do anything to make me miserably. Anything at all. And she knew I wanted you. Knew from that start. What did she do as soon as you arrived here? Had her bitch sell you for pennies. My property. Just to show me that she could. She came to my rooms and laughed about it. Told me that while I ached for you, your filthy lips were closing around the dick of anyone who cared to take you. She set about ruining you, spoiling you every way she could.” Gold smiled. “So I took you back, Jones. Of course I did. I had to claim you after that. But she kept her pet bitch spying on you, didn’t she? Kept trying to take you away from me again.”

“Mr Gold,” Killian said, not sure what to say. It was as if everything that had happened since he had come here had been due to his being a token in a game between Gold and Madame Mills that he wasn’t even aware of. “Mr Gold, I-“ 

“Oh, no, no, Jones,” Gold said, leaning down and jamming a hand over Killian’s mouth. “I don’t need to hear anymore from you.” Killian’s arousal still spiked at having his mouth stopped, and Gold said, “Mills saw me toying with you in the Top, do you remember? And suddenly she promoted you. Trying to make you think she can give you things I can’t. And then sending her bitch to try and seduce you; that nearly worked. I had to completely break you after that. I had no choice. And, truly, I thought that would be enough. But I never dreamed she’d be so ruthless as to try and have you destroy yourself with your own lions, or that when that failed, that you’d go to her. That you’d help her attack me. After all I gave you, all I lavished on you, you sided with her, in the end.” He was still holding Killian’s mouth closed, but Gold used his other hand to stroke Killian’s chest, his fingers gliding closer and closer to the barely healed scars.”Don’t you understand, Jones, they took you to laugh at me. Just to show me how easily they could take the things I had, the things I’d worked for. How could you, Jones? How could you?”

Gold took his hand from Killian’s mouth and Killian sucked in a hard, jerky breath. “Mr Gold, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me about what she was doing? If I’d known, I-“

“Silence.” And Gold slapped Killian hard around the face. “You always were a stupid boy. I should have known you’d crawl to anyone who shows an interest in your disgusting body. Anyone, you’ll take anyone, won’t you? Anyone can have you. I should have know, such a eager whore as you. How she’d ruin you.” Gold spat every word into Killian’s stinging face. 

And Killian lifted his chin and took it all, panting. “Yes, sir,” he whispered. “Yes. I am, sir. I’m disgusting. I’m worth nothing. I need you to control me.”

Gold’s face twisted with more anger, a vicious, righteous rage. “Are enjoying this, Jones?”

Killian whimpered, realising his mistake, and shook his head. “No, no, sir.” But Gold grabbed his dick, wrenched at it. And Killian was so hard. He loved Gold’s rage. He loved being slapped and spat upon and called filthy names. He couldn’t help responding to every cruel word, every threat. “I see you are?” sneered Gold. He sat back, straddling Killian’s caged body. “Was it your intention, then, to anger me? To get your disgusting kicks that way?”

“No, sir. Please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. P-punish me?.” But his hips jerked as he said that. 

“If you wish,” said Gold. 

And Gold slashed his nails down Killian’s chest, ripping out his stitches. Killian howled in hot, sickening pain. Then Gold punched him in the temple, so hard his head whipped around, and he saw stars explode in front of his eyes.

“Sir, please,” Killian said as he righted himself as best he could. Feeling dizzy, suddenly, dizzy and sick.

“But you said you wanted to be punished, Jones,” said Gold, and he hit him again, a little lower this time, and something in Killian’s cheek went crunch as his head spun. Killian gasped, he had seen Gold angry before, many times before, but every other time there had been something sexual about it, something deviant and cruel, but this, this was just pure rage. Gold intended to hurt Killian as much as he could, not because he enjoyed seeing Killian in pain, but because his rage had nowhere else to go. And Killian couldn’t get away.

Gold hit him and hit him and hit him. One fist then the other. Killian wrenched at the handcuffs, but all he managed to do was break the skin on his wrists and make his shoulders burn. He could barely see for the blood in his eyes and his lip was split and swelling as he managed to splutter, “Mr Gold, please. Please. You’re going to fucking kill me.”

“Am I?” Gold said, and he stood up and kicked Killian, once, hard, right in the balls. Killian howled and curled in on himself, as Gold kicked out again, hitting his tailbone this time, just below his chained wrists. And then Gold kicked again, and kicked him everywhere. 

The kicking lasted longer than the beating. Killian was just a sobbing mess, barely able to breathe, on the floor when Gold stopped kicking at him. 

After a second of breathless silence, Gold said, “I would dearly love to rape you now, Jones.”

Killian made a sobbing noise. He thought he was crying, but he was so broken he couldn't tell. He barely knew where he was.

“But how could I rape you?” Gold said, voice a growl. “Filth like you, you make such a thing impossible. How could a creature like you ever be raped?” Gold was jerking himself to these words, Killian could hear it in the way his gasps broke up what he was saying. “A wretch like you, a whore that would let anyone take him to bed, who would bend over for anyone who so much as looked at him. That’s all you are, a fucking disease ridden whore.” And Killian knew Gold was going to come over his broken, ruined sobbing body now - knew that was where this was going. “This is how it ends for us, Jones,” Gold gasped. “Maybe how it would always end. You are ruined for me now. How can I ever take any pleasure in you, when I know you would conspire with those vicious bitches against me.”

And, at that, Killian felt it, a soft splattering hitting his bruised flank as he sobbed, so ruined, still curled in a tight ball on the gold rug.

After a moment Gold stepped back. Killian lifted his head and looked up at him. He wasn’t certain, but Gold’s eyes looked red, almost tearful. “You will leave this circus, Jones,” Gold said, in a rough, hoarse voice. “You will pack your things and be gone by midday tomorrow, or you will be sorry. Believe me, if you cross me this time…, I would truly take the drop for you, Jones. To watch you die in my hands. This is your only warning. Now get out of my room.”

Killian looked up at Gold, still naked, handcuffed, lying bleeding on the floor. “Mr Gold,” he croaked, “please, at least remove these things from my wrists.”

Gold shook his head. “I said get out.” And he turned away. 

Killian was shaking, every part of his body screaming. The stitches on his chest were opened and the slash from Samson’s claws was bleeding again. He rolled onto his side and struggled to his feet with his hands bound. Lifting his chin, and holding himself with all the dignity he could, he limped to the doorway. As he went to slip through it, behind him, Gold said, very quietly, “I loved you, Jones.”

Killian didn’t look around, but pushed through the curtain.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _David’s arms were so big. They slipped around Killian’s waist and lifted him off Gold like he was a sack of flour._
> 
> _As David, hoisted him up, over his shoulder, muttering, “There, there, K, come on. Come with me, now.” Killian was crying and crying like a baby._

“I don’t care what depravity you get up to with Mr Gold, Killian, but I would ask you not to bring it to our doorstep again.” Mary folded her arms. She was only small, but her body easily blocked the way into the little caravan

Killian twisted to show her his cuffed wrists. “Please, Mary. I’m sorry. Just ask David. Ask him if he has a spare key.”

Mary squinted and regarded his body. She’d made no comment about him being naked, almost looked at him as if she expected nothing less. “Fine,” she said with a great huff of a sigh. “He has skeleton keys. Come in.” And she stood aside, just enough to let him past.

When David saw him he muttered, “Jesus, K, what happened? You lost the bloody key?” Mary smartly threw a blanket over Killian as David spoke. “Couldn’t Gold come himself, to get it, you’re hardly…” It wasn’t until Killian was fully into the caravan, lit up by the candle on the table, that David saw the state Killian was in and said, “Fuck me.”

Killian shrugged. “Yeah. We had a bit of a spat.”

“That man. Mary muttered, climbing back into the bed at the dark end of the caravan. “The way he behaves. It should not be allowed. I would feed him to Ben if I thought I would escape the rope for doing such a thing.” 

“Mary!” David moved around behind Killian and shifted the blanket aside to fiddle with the skeleton keys. “Sorry, K. Mary just doesn’t do well if she’s woken in the night. Believe me, I should know.”

“Chance of you waking me in the night,” Mary muttered, as she rolled over under the blankets, turning her back the them.

“It’s alright. She’s right,” said Killian. “He’s not a good man.” And then whatever David was doing behind him resulted in a sharp clicking sound, and the cuffs fell from Killian’s wrists to the floor.

*

Killian lay down on the little cot in his caravan, Mary’s blanket still wrapped around him, tight like a cocoon. For a time his head was almost throbbing with angry thoughts about Gold. How unjust he was, how cruel; his needless viciousness, his stupid jealousy. He wanted to make Gold pay for what he’d done. Somehow. On the shelf next to his bed, was the bottle of violet oil Madame Mills had given him. There was a tiny amount left, nothing more than a glossy coating clinging to the bottom of the bottle. He took the bottle and upended it onto his bloody chest, then scooped up the puddle of oil and slipped his glazed hand around his dick. 

This belonged to him again now. This was returned to him.

He did not want to think about Gold has he touched himself, fist tight, strokes already hard and fast, fucking his hand, hips coming up off the bed even as it made his damaged body smart and ache…, but he did. He thought of how Gold would watch him as he did this, stand over him, call him disgusting and wanton, taunt him over the fact he could make him stop at any moment, make him repeat back that he needed control, that he belonged to Gold, that he was nothing and that he was filth. And as he thought those things he was moaning, bucking up harder. “Yes, yes.”

He thought of Gold’s threat to rape him, Gold’s vicious desire enraptured him. He wished Gold had raped him, maybe right at the start, he would have been disgusted enough that Gold could have had him against his will, used surprise or stealth, even power, made him strip himself, fucked into Killian hard, while he begged for anything but that. Gold loved to hear him beg. To have him kneel and beg for Gold’s dick to be forced into his mouth, and always, always, to beg for the whip. To beg for more pain even when he was sobbing from it. And he did it, he always did it.

At that thought he was close to coming, suddenly balanced on his edge. He held himself there, thoughtful, wondering about if he should, if he dared. And then without letting himself think about it for another moment he slipped the well of his fist over his dick again and made himself come, breathless with it. 

And as he came he whispered, “Please sir, please.” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for.

*

A little later, was sitting on the chair, still half wrapped in Mary’s blanket, dabbing iodine on the torn claw marks on his chest. He flinched when the door opened suddenly, fearing Gold would have changed his mind about finishing the job. Although, without his wrists chained, he would surely win a fight against Gold, even after the beating he’d had. But at the door, was Swan. 

“Killian?” 

She wearing and old tweed coat over her underwear, hair a tangled nest. 

Killian sighed. “What do you want?”

“Gold’s in Madame Mills’s tent.”

“Really? What’s he doing?” Killian looked back at the iodine soaked rag he was dragging over his skin. It was turning his skin a dirty, rusty colour.

“Smashing everything. He, er,” Swan smirked, “He tipped a bucket of pitch over the bed. Ruined everything.”

_That beautiful bed_. Killian’s mouth fell open at the audacity of that. He even felt a little buzz of pleasure, that he could have prompted such a thing. “Jesus. How did she take that?”

“Listen up. I think you can still hear her screaming at him.” Swan smiled. “I’m not sure which of them is most angry.”

Killian stared at her for a minute, then said, “Can you shut the door, it’s cold. Come over here and do my back.” As Swan nodded did as he’d asked, Killian turned around and straddled the chair. Swan took the bottle of iodine and the fistful of rags.

“This is fucked up, Killian,” she said, as she dabbed the iodine over his shoulders. He winced at each touch of the wet rag.

“I know.”

“No, I don’t mean-. Sure, trick beat on you, but-“

“Swan. He’s not a trick.”

Behind Killian, Swan let out a long sigh, as if she was resigning herself to something. Then she said, “Killian, what’s fucked up is… They had a bet. Regina and Gold. Over you. Well, of course over you. Gold showed her your picture, wanted her to buy you. She realised why, of course and called him a fool for it. A delusional old invert he must be, to think he could seduce someone like you. And so they bet on you.

Killian shivered. “What? What was the prize?”

Swan took the rag from Killian’s back. “The circus. Control of the circus. They’ve run it jointly for so long. Both of them hate working together, although, I suppose, they must have been friends once. The bet was if Gold could seduce you he would get full control of Kenzo’s. If he didn’t, Regina would.” Swan tipped a little more iodine on her rag and, when she pressed it back to Killian’s skin, he winced harder at the sting

“Seduce me? Bed me? That happened weeks ago.” The shivering had become a shaking now. Killian was shaking, only slightly, but he couldn’t stop. 

“Gold didn’t bet that he could bed you. He bet that he could make you fall in love with him.”

“Oh.”

“Oh course, it all went wrong didn’t it?”

“Did it? How.”

“Killian. I can’t believe you don’t…” Swan placed her free hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Gold fell in love with _you_.” Swan set down the rags and the iodine on the wash stand. “And you’re done here. Anywhere else?”

“Yes.” Killian sighed, stood and dropped the blanket that was gathered at his hips. Gold had kicked him nastily all down the backs of his thighs. 

Swan looked at the mess a second. She touched his leg and Killian hissed. “Those aren’t bleeding,” she said. “You don’t need iodine. Got any Witch Hazel?”

Killian nodded to a mess of bottles on the table. “Whale left some, I think.”

“Really? Not like him to be so generous,” Swan said, going over to check and finding the correct bottle quickly among KIllian’s meagre supplies.“Okay, get on the bed and I’ll wash your bruises down with this.”

Killian, naked now, hobbled over to the bed and lay down. He could hear the sounds outside, distant crashing, shouting, and nearer, running footsteps. “Is everything okay out there?”

“In a way.” Swan dabbed at Killian’s bruised legs with a fresh cloth. The Witch Hazel was cold and it felt good on his tender skin. “They’ll get over it. With each other. They always do.”

“He said he’d kill me.”

Swan stopped dragging the rag down Killian’s legs. “He won’t kill you.”

“He said I had to be gone by midday or he’ll kill me.”

“Do you... Do you want to go?” Swan dabbed at him again. “We could leave. I know a Molly House in Whitechapel. The’d take us both. Assuming these bruises are going to go down.”

“Course they will. You think a Mary like me hasn’t taken a kicking before? At least there was only one of him. But, what do you mean they’d take you? In a Molly House? For what?”

Swan laughed a little bit. “I could cut my hair short again, play Tom for all the fine ladies. You’ve never seen that?”

Killian laughed too. “Course I have. Reckon I’d like to see you do it, though,” he said, wriggling his stiff shoulders, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

The rag Swan was holding slipped higher up Killian’s upper thigh and, without thinking, he ground slightly against the bed. “Hey!” Swan said, in a way that suggested she would have liked to slap him, if there was any place that could take a slap. “This is medical attention." She paused. "So you’re really going to stay? You going to win him back again?”

“No.” Killian said, he said that like lead. It was the first time he had even really let himself think it, but he knew it was true. There was no coming back from what had happened. There couldn’t be. “But I can’t go anywhere, anyway, can I? What about the cats?” And then, as soon as he’d thought it, he couldn’t shake the thought. “Swan,” Killian said carefully. “You don’t think Gold would…”

“Would what?”

“Would hurt my lions.”

Swan paused, the cold rag stilling against his leg again and he knew she was thinking it too. 

*

“But what could he do to them, really?” Swan shouted as she ran after Killian across the field. The sun was coming up. The light was misty grey, and the grass was wet with dew. Killian had only put trousers on, not troubled himself with boots. The dampness underfoot made him feel brightly alive and awake. 

“What could he do?” he shouted back. “I don’t know. Shoot them?”

When they reached the cats cage it was quiet and deserted. Killian breathed once with relief, before he realised what was wrong. He spun around to Swan, still racing to catch him up. “Where’s Delilah,” he shouted. “Delilah’s not in there.”

And Swan froze. He saw it in her face. She had heard the roar a second before he did, and then Delilah came pounding out of the mist, heading right for Swan. Pouncing with a terrifying roar. 

Swan went down under Delilah’s claws like a wet newspaper

Killian ran. Swan was screaming, Delilah growing. He ran towards them, shouting - yelling - “Just keep still, Swan. If you keep still she won’t-“ But then, as he reached them both, just as he was about to throw his arms around Delilah and tear her off Swan, he heard the shot. As he dived onto Delilah, she sank to the ground, sudden and final, like a light going out. Like a kite when the wind drops. 

And as he looked across the site, there was Madame Mills with the gun, and Delilah was bleeding from a hole between her eyes, and Swan was underneath her, alive, not even hurt, but shaking with shock. 

And Gold was standing by the cats’ cage. And Gold was smiling...

Killian was up and running at Gold before he could think. Diving across the grass to knock him to the ground, landing one big solid punch to Gold’s jaw. Gold was still laughing as he went down, as Killian came down top of him…

And he would have beaten Gold and beaten him, beaten the life right out of him, but David’s arms were so big. They slipped around Killian’s waist and lifted him off Gold like he was a sack of flour. 

As David, hoisted him up, over his shoulder, muttering, “There, there, K, come on. Come with me, now.” Killian was crying and crying like a baby.

*

An hour before the matinee, there was a knock at the door of Killian’s caravan. He was in bed. He had been hysterical and then he had slept. Whale had come and given him laudanum and Swan come and had given him gin. When he called out this time, it was Madame Mills who entered.

“You are top of the bill this afternoon, Mr Jones. I need you to get up.”

Killian squinted in surprise. “I’m not… What? I can’t go on like this?”

“Yes you can.” Madame Mills brushed her palms together. “Wash your face and I’ll get Whale to give you something. You are going on this afternoon. Mr Nolan is outside your door, as he has been all day. In 15 minutes he will take you to your dressing room. He will stay with you. He will keep you away from Mr Gold, and he from you.” 

Killian stared at her. He said nothing. The way she was talking, as if none of this was her fault, was anything to do withe her.

“You are the star of my show, Mr Gold is the master of ceremonies. And that is the last thing I have to say on the matter,” said Madame Mills, turning, already, to leave. “I will not have my circus dragged down by two Margeries having a lover’s tiff, do you understand me, Mr Jones?”

Killian took a breath. “I only have one fucking lion.”

“You only need one fucking lion.”

*

In his dressing room Killian changed into his black breeches with sequinned spirals and the peacock feather trimmed waistcoat. He put a thick layer of make up over the bruises on his face. He felt like he was somewhere else. Lost and far away. There was a bottle of coca syrup on his dressing table. He swigged it while he got ready, by curtain up, he was buzzing and his jaw was tense.

Most of the tricks in his act could be done with Samson and he moved through them in a daze. The pain in his body was only slight when he was in the ring. That was the way of it. The thrill hit him, mixed with the coca and carried him through. It was a quiet afternoon show, the stalls half full and the reactions muted. He had no intention of putting his hand in Samson’s mouth, but he needed a finale and the meat trick, he decided, could be managed. It was a little reckless, perhaps, after what had happened in rehearsal. But he had always been a reckless man, always been a fool.

When he lay himself down on that raised platform, put that mutton in his mouth, he knew this was, almost certainly a mistake. He heard them gasp as Samson performed the tricks to get up the ramp to where he lay. And when he got there, when Samson was over him - that great beast, his big boy, his beauty - he saw it then in the eyes. There was a strange glassy quality to his gaze, a few flecks of foam on his lips, a strange scent on his breath.

Killian turned his head, and there, beside the barred wall that kept his lions enclosed, was Gold. And Gold was smiling... 

And Samson roared. Samson roared.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No teaser for this one. I don't want you to know anything.

Killian opened his eyes, slowly. It felt like they were creaking open, like a heavy door on rusty hinges. For a second, everything was grey, then he saw the light from the window, and black shapes drifted into focus. He was in his bed. His head was thick and heavy. Something felt strange. He felt like he was looking out of someone else’s skull. 

There was someone in the caravan and it took a moment for him to realise who it was, and when he did, it turned out to be Swan. She was sitting at his table, folding pieces of bloody rag and dropping them into into a bucket on the floor. Her shoulders were hunched like she was tired. She looked over at him. Her face was pale.

“Killian? Are you awake.”

He was so happy to hear her voice, so happy suddenly, he felt tears prickle at his eyes. “Swan?” But it hurt to speak. His voice sounded wrong. 

“No don’t,” Swan said, coming close. “Don’t try and talk.” She was staring at him. Staring hard. Something was wrong. “You shouldn’t try and talk.”

Killian felt his bottom lip start to shake. “Samson?” he said, carefully. “What’s happened Samson? Swan?” Samson, he knew, had meant kill him. And he knew there was really only one way they would have been able to stop him.

Swan smoothed down Killian’s hair. “Mary shot him,” she said it quickly. “She had to. He was going to kill you. She reckoned he was drugged or something. And she knows animals, after all.”

“Oh. But I told David not to, not to shoot him,” Killian croaked. “Mary was there when I said it.” His shoulders were shaking. _Both of them gone. Both his babies._ He didn’t know if he was crying. His face felt so strange.

“Shush, shush,” Swan said, still stroking his hair again. “It’s okay. At least you’re alive. Samson nearly killed you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Killian… David tried to vault the bars to save you. I don’t know what he thought he was going to do. Broke both his ankles, trying to drop down like you do.”

Killian’s throat was thick with grief. Years and years he’d had those two. Nothing in his life has lasted as long as those creatures. They were his heart. They had been. Where was his heart now? What was he now? 

He couldn’t feel his face. “What’s the damage, Swan?”

Swan had a face like a doll. Rosebud mouth and big green eyes. She’d been crying. She’d been sitting over him and crying and crying, he could see it so clearly in her face. “You don’t need to know that yet, Killian,” she said, each word careful. “You should sleep.”

Killian realised, slowly, that only one of his eyes was open. That he was only looking through one eye, not two. “Swan, what’s wrong?” He noticed how thick and muffled his voice sounded. Was his face swollen? “Swan?”

Swan shook her head. “Oh, Killian.”

And she picked up a mirror.

*

 

When he slipped through the curtains, Gold was sitting on his sofa. It was late in the evening. He’d had to wait all day for Swan to leave him. Killian paused there at the doorway. “Hello. Mr Gold.”

Gold looked up. Killian saw the flinch he tried to hide. And then the swallow and the neat, tight posture. And the sneer. “How dare you come here, you disgusting faithless creature. Get out.” His voice shook.

“Oh no,” said Killian, strolling casually into the room, in a manner he’d never had cause to before. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Gold took a steady, tiny sip from the glass in his hand. “I have nothing to say to you now, Mr Jones. Nothing whatsoever.”

Killian shrugged. He was almost upon Gold now. He didn’t stop until he was near enough that he could touch him if he chose to. “Fine. I don’t care to hear anything you have to say.”

With a steady sigh, Good stood up and looked Killian steadily in the eye. “And I told you to go. Leave, now, Mr Jones. I want you to leave.”

They were standing so close to each other, breathing each other. Almost like old times. “What you want is of no consequence compared to what I want,” said Killian.

“Oh? And what do you want?”

KIllian smiled. “I want to know how you intend to make it up to me.”

“Fuck off, Jones.”

Casually, Killian took the glass from Gold’s hand and up-ended it so the gin splashed out onto the floor. Onto both their boots. Gold stared at him, at Killian’s ruined face. Gold was scared.

The damage to Killian’s face was mostly round his eyes. He’d lost the left one completely, Whale had sewn the empty socket shut. On the same side his cheek bone was caved in, leaving most of that side of his face sunken and distorted, covered in scars. On the right, his functioning eye was bisected by a single wide scar that stretched from his hairline to his chin. It sliced through his mouth, twisting it, so that only one side of his face could smile. 

Killian tossed the glass over his shoulder. He smiled at the sound it made, shattering on the floor. 

Gold huffed in a sharp breath, shaking is head. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here, Jones? What is this? Another of your desperate attempts to seduce me? This won’t work. I’ll ever take you back now you’re ruined. Now your face is gone. You’ve lost your power. I made sure your wiles would never work on me ever again. I will never fuck you ever again.”

“I don’t want you to fuck me, Gold. Far from it.” Killian put his hand high on Gold’s upper arm, almost on his shoulder, gripped it tight. He was a stronger man than Gold. Considerably stronger. “Quite the opposite. Take your clothes off, Mr Gold.”

“Get out, Jones.”

Killian licked his bottom lip and raised his hook, touched it to Gold’s cheek as he gripped his arm tighter. “I said, take your fucking clothes off.”

Gold stared at Killian for a moment, and then nodded. Killian took his hands off Gold and took a single step back, giving Gold a breath more space. Gold raised his chin and let his jacked slip off his shoulders onto the floor. “So it’s to be by force? I never thought I’d see this,” he said, as he begun on his shirt buttons.

“Really?” Killian swallowed. “I didn’t think it would be such a surprise. What did you think you were making of me?”

Gold took off his trousers, kicked off his boots, just as Killian reached out and touched his face, lifted that sharp chin. “I didn’t…” Gold swallowed, he was shaking. “I didn’t know what you’d be. I just wanted you. I think if I’d known half of what you’d become I would never have begun this.” He looked small now he was naked. This close Killian could see how red his eyes were, how strangely broken he seemed. 

“I think you should get on the bed,” Killian licked his bottom lip again. “Mr Gold.”

Gold held Killian’s gaze for a moment, then did as he was told…

Gold lay on his back. Killian climbed onto the bed and shoved his leather trousers down his thighs. He was already hard for this, for Gold. When had he ever not been? No one had ever aroused his desire like Gold; even before he’d realised it. He was panting with want as he looked at Gold beneath him, unwilling and hatefully angry.

“So it’s rape, is it, Jones?” Gold said with his voice hard and sharp and nasty. “That’s what you’ve always been fascinated by, isn’t it? What you always wanted and I would never give you. Too brutish for the art of persuasion.”

Angry, Killian slapped Gold’s face. And as soon as he’d done it he couldn’t believe he had. He pulled his hand away like Gold’s skin had burned him. Gold hadn’t even flinched. Killian dropped his body low, pushing the two of them belly to belly. He put his ruined face in Gold’s. “Call it whatever you want,” he said, as ground his erection against Gold’s own hardening dick, before reaching over and taking the bottle of oil from the shelf beside the bed.

In a moment, Killian slipped two oiled fingers into Gold, fast enough that Gold yelled, “Fuck!” And lost his breath for a second. “You in a rush, Jones? No time to romance me?”

“Think yourself lucky you’re not chained down and gagged, sir,” Killian said, breath ragged, fucking his fingers in and out of Gold. The honorific had slipped out of him as if it was natural.

Gold smiled at this, and then Killian moved a little and Gold moaned out, “Oh, Jones, yes. That’s it. There.”

Killian looked Gold in the eyes as he repeated the movement he had just made. He did it again and again, enjoying every reaction. Every gasp of pleasure. Kept going until Gold was thrashing and panting. “Oh yes, sir,” Killian whispered. “Look at this, look at you, grinding onto my hand, desperate for my dick now, aren’t you, sir?” He saw a cloud of fear pass over Gold’s eyes. Killian swallowed. “Aren’t you? Say it.”

“We’re not,” Gold broke off into a moan. “We’re not doing this, Jones.”

“Oh we are, sir, we really are. Ask to be fucked.”

There was a pause. Then, Gold said, “If you wish. Will you fuck me, Jones?”

Killian gave one of his weird half smiles and Gold returned it with a cold look, as Killian slipped his fingers free. Gold grunted at the loss - but there was only a brief moment before the fingers were replaced by Killian’s dick. Killian fucked himself into Gold with a long easy push and a snarl. And then, with another growl of pleasure, he placed his hand and hook around Gold’s neck. 

He didn’t squeeze, just kept them there, that alone had made his dick stiffen further inside Gold. He licked his twisted lips. Gold’s eyes were wild, wide as saucers. “What are you doing?” Gold said. “What the hell do you think you are doing?

Killian squeezed Gold’s throat, only a little. Gold gasped. Killian kept fucking into Gold as he spoke, “You know exactly what I’m doing. I’m doing what’s always been inevitable,” he panted - choking and fucking Gold, and losing his breath to both. “I’m giving you what you deserve for pushing me and pushing me and pushing me. It’s never enough for you, is it? None of it has ever been enough?”

Gold spluttered again and then coughed under Killian’s hand, and Killian loosened his grip enough to let Gold speak. Gold gasped for air a couple of times, then said quietly, “That’s not, that’s not true. You were enough. You were always enough for me. But I wasn’t enough for you though, was I? You’re the one who always needed more. More pain. More debasement. The way you soaked it up like you were carved from chalk. Always trying to make me angry, make me jealous, always trying to coax out the worst of me? We both know who your true master is, Jones.”

“Shut up, fucking shut up.” But Killian kept his grip on Gold’s throat loose.

Gold’s expression changed. “Jones,” he said, and his voice was soft and full of love. His eyes glistened. “Do you remember that night I spanked you, then whipped you, then caned you? I had you suffer for me all night. No break, no relief, nothing but pain, nothing for you but pain. What you took for me. How you begged me to stop. By the end of that, you didn’t know where you were. Your jaw was slack and your eyes were glazed and you’d slipped away so far into yourself you could barely hear me when I spoke. Oh, kissing your loose mouth then. You, like that - broken to nothing. You were always the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And you never looked more beautiful to me than you did that night. Drunk on pain. That was the greatest night of my life, Jones.”

Killian thrust his dick hard into Gold and gasped, his breathing just broken. Everything felt too real. The colours were too bright. Gold, too solid beneath him. “Don’t, Gold,” he pressed through his teeth. “Don’t speak of those things now. It’s too late for that now. We can’t ever go back there. I can ever be that beautiful thing again.”

They were both panting. Gold, gasping to get his breath where Killian held his neck, “I know that, Jones.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you now, sir. I have to.”

“Yes, yes you are,” said Gold quietly, his voice a ghost and a croak. “Good.”

Killian leaned down and pressed his mouth tight to Gold’s as he squeezed Gold’s throat tighter and fucked him harder. And Gold did fight, but Killian was so much stronger. 

And when Killian came, Gold was dead.

*

He hadn’t expected to get away with it. He had expected to hang for it, wasn’t even surprised how little that had even mattered. When Madame Mills sent Belle to fetch him to her from his caravan that morning, he expected it to be to meet the men who would take him to justice. But no such men were there. 

Just Madame Mills, in black chiffon, and happier than he had ever seen her. She rose from the day bed as he came in and took his hand and hook in both of hers. “Mr Jones. It rather seems as if our Mr Gold left in a hurry. He was offered a job in America. Interestingly, the same circus was our old lion tamer Mr Black Beard. Just a coincidence, I suppose.” She drew him into the room and ushered at him to sit, and, as he did, she returned to her position reclined amongst the cushions. Gold, clearly, hadn’t ruined all her furniture. 

Madame Mills tipped her head to one side and looked at him. His face hadn’t made her flinch once. She said, “I knew he’d fall in love with you. Knew the minute he showed me that grubby, crumpled picture. Filthy creature that he was. I knew his dick would end up being is weak point. It was a long wait for you, though. Incredible that, in the end, he walked right in to my tent and demanded I bring him the thing that would destroy him.” 

Killian flinched slightly. He wondered if Madame Mills would ever seek to destroy him. Wondered, even, if he would welcome such an experience. “You wanted him to fall for me.” Killian said. “You weren’t betting he wouldn’t be able to seduce me, you were betting he would.”

Madame Mills shrugged as if that thought hadn’t quite occurred to her. “And that his infernal jealousy would destroy him? Perhaps I was.” She smiled sweetly again. “Now, I have something for you, Mr Jones. An essential, I believe, if we are to keep you on. I had Marco make this.” She turned and took an object from a low table by the day bed. The object glittered. It was gold. She held it out to Killian

Killian stood and came over and took it. He looked at it. It was a mask. An expressionless face of gold that would cover his eyes and broken cheek and leave his mouth bare. “Madame Mills?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Quite a deliciously sinister looking thing, isn’t it? Try it on.” Killian put the gold mask to his face. It fitted perfectly. There was a gold ribbon to tie it in place. He peered through the eye holes at Madame Mills. Behind the day bed where she lay, was a long mirror. He looked up at his face in it. And the sight made him catch his breath. “Ah yes,” said Madame Mills, watching him. “It’s perfect. Quite unnerving. They are quite the rage in Venice, I believe. Have you ever been to Venice, Mr Jones?”

No. Killian was staring at his featureless golden face in Madame Mills’s mirror. “No, ma’am, I haven’t.”

Madame Mills stood up and circled behind him. She slipped her arms around is waist, and her chin onto his shoulder. She looked at their joint reflections. “Never? You do surprise me, Mr Jones.”

“You wouldn’t be the first woman surprised by my Venetian tendency, ma’am.” He took a breath, practiced how he could breathe in the mask. “And you wish me to perform my act in this? I would need to train new cats, if we can get them from cubs it is easier-“

“Your act?” Madame Mills shook her head, lifting it from his shoulder. “Oh no. A lion tamer should be a man the audience wants, a body they ache to see destroyed. You agree?” Killian nodded in the mirror. “And that, we both know, is no longer what you are.” She shook her head slightly. “I have found a new young man for that. Delightful he is. Quite perfect. Young, 20, I believe, but, he comes highly recommended. He arrives today, with a pair of tigers. I trust you can take him under your” - she touched Killian’s shoulder - “your wing.”

Killian nodded and sucked his teeth. He stared at himself in the mirror. The gold mask made him look terrifying and irresistible. He was no longer beautiful, but this faceless face this was a power all of it’s own. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I think I can.”

Madame Mills was watching him in the mirror again. “As for you… There is, of course, another vacancy. You have some gold trousers, don’t you, Mr Jones. I had Swan take them and get them cleaned. We should get you a gold hook too. Perhaps,” she said, “we should call you Mr Gold.” 

“I don’t think so, ma’am.” said Killian.

*

Gold’s rooms were his rooms now. There were two new rugs, but everything else was the same. The bed, the Chesterfield, all of it. All his. Even the gold whip.

Killian lifted the whip like it was a sacred object. He kissed it and then slipped it into his snakeskin boot. He put on his mask and looked in the mirror and wetted his lips. He made his way to his old dressing room.

And there he was, a Puckish little thing, bent over the dressing table, smudging black around his eyes and gilt on his cheekbones, preening and prettifying himself. Just from the way he was staring at his own reflection, Killian knew just what this creature ached for. The vain little peacock. His mouth was pretty as anything. Killian wondered if that mouth had ever had an education. His dick was half-hard in his gold trousers just thinking about what could be done.

For a while Killian just stood there, watching him, though a hitch in the red velvet curtain.

And then he took the whip from his boot and stepped silently into the room.

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have enjoyed this story, you’re a terrible person, but I love you and I made this for you. 
> 
> But, obviously, feedback, comments and everything always appreciated and adored - here or on tumblr. 
> 
> As ever. Or just say hello.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://mathildia.tumblr.com/) prompts set in this AU always welcome. A side story about Madame Mills and Swan is in the works. 
> 
>  
> 
> [From time to time I meta about this dreadful story on this tag](http://mathildia.tumblr.com/tagged/stupid-circus-bullshit)
> 
>  
> 
> This story is complete and I miss these character SO MUCH. If you want to talk to me about any aspect of it, you are always, always welcome. Golden Hook is such a tiny ship. I get lonely. I am delighted by the reaction this fic has got. Like a cult of all the best people.
> 
> Please do be part of the cult that is this story by commenting here or on my tumblr. I NEED TO NOT FEEL ALONE WITH THIS. Also, I love you, thank you for reading this and I am so sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> And article about Victorian circuses I read for research. Which you might like if, like me, you have a massive erection for Victorian circuses. 
> 
> http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/d/development-of-circus-acts/


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